


Liquid Measure

by quillghost



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/F, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillghost/pseuds/quillghost
Summary: Hermione is haunted by a beautiful stranger who is not what she appears to be. Bellatrix has been looking for Hermione for a very long time. Vampire AU. Modern setting. No magic.





	1. The Stranger

_  
I can't trust anyone or anything these days_

_If you are who you say you are then show your face_

_Came out of the ocean like you came out of a dream_

_Your voice it sounds familiar but you are not what you seem_

 

**1860**

 

She’s only a child when her mother steals her away in the middle of a lesson to adventure deep into the woods. It’s well past midnight, but on a clear night during the full moon it’s the closest Bellatrix gets to experiencing what it would be like to walk in daylight. She was born in darkness and is cursed to live in darkness for all eternity, but nights like these make it feel less like she’s missing out. She’ll never feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, no, but what does that matter in the cold and glorious light of the moon?

The woods are bristling with mysterious life at this time of night. So much more than just the owls and the crickets. There’s always the feeling of something more out here, in the deep, dark unexplored.

“Never stray from me, Bella,” Druella says, crushing her daughter’s hand in her protective grip, “We are not the only monsters lurking out here,”

“I thought we were the apex predators, mum,” Bellatrix says, baring her fanged teeth as if to ward off anything that may be watching.

“That we are,” Druella responds,“But there are stupid, brazen creatures that would seek to test us. And you are small, sweet one, and my love for you makes me vulnerable,”

Bellatrix growls, sounding more like a baby lioness than anything fearsome, “I’ll kill anything that dares challenge you,”

Druella chuckles and releases Bellatrix’s hand to wrap her arm around her shoulders, “That’s my girl,”

They continue their journey, moving gracefully and quickly into the endless depths. Druella is sure to move at a slower pace for her daughter, but the girl is faster than others her age. They reach their destination in less than an hour, though they are miles away from any human dwellings.

A small, dilapidated cabin rests between two towering oak trees, so overgrown with moss and weeds that it would be easy to miss if one didn’t know of its presence. A warm, flickering glow emanates from an open window. Bellatrix follows her mother forward, her heavy skirts even heavier with the mud of the forest weighing her steps. She feels as if she’s moving towards something life altering.

Druella knocks three times, the sound disrupting a nearby cloud of bats and shattering the quiet of the small clearing. The door opens, revealing a slender woman with unruly, curly brown hair and round spectacles that make her eyes appear twice the normal size. Bellatrix wants to laugh at her drabness but her mother is in a very serious mood, so she fights the instinct.

“Cassandra,” Druella greets.

“Oh, is this her?” Cassandra says, leaning around Druella to get a better look at the girl standing behind her skirts.

Druella clears her throat, looking down her nose at the woman. Cassandra straightens and moves to the side, waving her visitors forward, “Oh, my apologies, I forgot. Please come in, come in,”

Druella brushes past her and Bellatrix follows. A thousand powerful smells hit her nose instantly, nearly causing her to gag. The walls are lined with dried herbs, the shelves are overflowing with ancient books and jars of different animal parts and strange liquids. There’s a crackling fireplace on the far wall and a cauldron hovering over it, with some bubbling potion emitting an abhorrent odor. Bellatrix slaps a hand over her nose and stomps a foot, refusing to move another step into this foul place.

“Please excuse the smell. Wouldn’t you know frog brains and dead man’s foot are quite smelly when boiled? You’ll get used to it, dear,”

“Bella’s senses are especially sensitive right now. She’s in her formative years, after all. Couldn’t you cover it up?” Druella says.

While Cassandra searches for the cauldron’s lid Bellatrix shuffles forward, closer to her mother. The statuesque woman looks odd in this decrepit setting. Pristine blonde hair swept neatly atop her head and an expensive gown, she looks starkly out of place. She’s never seen her somewhere so beneath her. She wonders what is so important to draw her mother to such a place.

The smell becomes much more bearable when the unruly woman covers it up with the cast-iron lid, allowing Bellatrix to drop the hand covering her face. Cassandra then brushes off the couch cushions and motions for them to take a seat.

“The tea should be ready any moment now. Please, have a seat,”

Druella breathes through her nose and does as she’s asked. Bellatrix wrinkles her nose but follows suit when she receives a stern look.

It’s not long before they are joined by the odd woman once again. A steaming cup of tea is handed to the child sitting stiffly on the couch and Cassandra rests comfortably in the armchair across from them.

“Why only me?” Bellatrix complains, giving the tea an experimental sniff.

“That’s why we’re here, my dear. Cassandra Trelawney here is a seer, and she has something very important to discuss with us about your future. Isn’t that right, Cassandra?”

“ _You’re_ a seer?” Bellatrix asks, sneering at the woman across from her.

“Well, yes,” Cassandra says, sitting up straighter in her chair as if trying to gain the approval of the ten year old.

“Bella, be polite,” Druella absconds.

“She’s just…not what I would expect,” Bellatrix says, sipping her tea.

“Now, Cassandra, this vision you had, could you tell when it will take place?” Druella asks.

“I could not. I saw only flashes. She is fully grown, I can tell you that much. I felt her pain, her hunger, her desire as if it was my own,”

Bellatrix furrows her brow and tilts her head back, the hot tea scalding her throat as she gulps it down. Cassandra leans forward to observe Bellatrix with gigantic eyes.

“Quite the range of emotion you’ll have, child. Not many feel things the way you do. Or will,”

Druella laughs, “The temper tantrums this one has would terrify you,”

Bellatrix finishes her tea and places it on the cluttered wooden table between them. “Now what?” She asks, “Am I going to have a vision?”

“No, dear,” Trelawney says, picking up her empty cup, “The vision's been had. This is merely to gain some clarity,”

The seer peers into the cup, her spectacles slipping down her narrow nose. Bellatrix shuffles impatiently, kicking her feet against the legs of the coffee table.

“Hmm, yes, very curious indeed,” Cassandra looks at the child in front of her and tilts her head before returning her gaze to her cup, “Yes, this will be your undoing, child,”

“Is she in danger?” Druella says, growing impatient with the vague comments.

“No, no, not now. Not from this, anyway,”

“Well what is it, then?”

Cassandra passes the cup to Druella, a slight tremor in her hand. Bellatrix can hear her blood rushing.

“What am I looking at?” Druella says, twirling the mug in her hands and tilting her head, “Blood splatter?”

“No,” Cassandra says, “It is the sun,”

“The _sun?”_ Druella shrieks, giving the seer a wild look, “You mean to tell me my daughter will burn-”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Cassandra exclaims. Druella settles but her shoulders still tremble with fury at the thought of her daughter befalling such a fate, “It’s merely symbolic. The catalyst I saw in the vision was a girl. A little younger than Bellatrix will be but older than she is now. A girl with brown hair and brown eyes. Be wary of her, little one,”

“That describes a million people” Bellatrix says, frowning.

“What else can you tell us about her?” Druella asks.

“She will awaken things in you that will lie dormant for your entire life. You will feel things you never thought possible. She will light you aflame yes, but from the inside,”

Bellatrix wrinkles her nose, “What kind of witch is she? I’ll burn her alive before I allow her to harm me!”

Cassandra chuckles, giving her that look adults sometimes give her that she _hates._ The look that says _I know better than you._

“She will not harm you. You will harm yourself because of her,”

“I will do no such thing!”

“The future is not set in stone, though prophesies are not often false. In fact, I have never known of one to not come to pass,” The seer says darkly.

“I have to say, this doesn’t sound very dire,” Druella comments, “It sounds like you’re describing some infatuation,”

“I assure you, it’s much more than that. This could certainly mean the end of your daughter if she’s not careful,”

Druella nods, lowering her eyes to her lap.

“Sunlight is a good omen for most,” Cassandra continues, “For your kind, however, it is one to be feared. It means death, violence, pain…This girl is the sun, the dawn, the harbinger of change. It feels as though your daughter must let the sunlight touch her skin, let her warmth seep into her bones if she is to survive,”

“Is the girl a threat or a savior, then? Which is it?” Druella snaps.

“I believe that depends on Bellatrix,”

She rises, holding out a hand to her daughter. Cassandra walks them to the door and places a hand on Druella’s arm before she can exit.

“Young Bellatrix will grow to be fearsome. She will be ruthless, a monument to her name. Warrior. But she must be wary of losing her humanity,”

Druella pulls her arm away and jerks her chin up so she’s looking down on Cassandra, “We are Blacks. We are pure of blood. She has no _humanity_ ,”

With that, the pair leaves the seer’s cabin. Mother and daughter are swallowed back up by the darkness. Bellatrix feels settled surrounded by it. It’s where she belongs, after all.

For now, anyway.

 

**Scotland, 2019**

 

Narcissa Malfoy hasn’t seen her sister in 14 years. It’s not the first time Bellatrix has disappeared for an extended period of time. The woman is consumed by whatever desire comes to her on a whim; sometimes she leaves to hunt the Order and avenge the death of their parents, sometimes she leaves to immerse herself in some corner of the world she hasn’t yet explored. She’s addicted to whatever makes her feel alive; be it revenge, sex, love or death.

She tends to reappear unceremoniously, as if she hasn’t been gone for over a decade. Neither she nor her sister have ever been the affectionate sort, the love between them known but unspoken. Despite the amount of time that may have passed, they find it easy to pick up their dynamic where it left off. Eternity has an odd affect on people. Years feel like weeks in the span of a century.

It’s why Narcissa isn’t surprised when the door to her house slams open in the dead of night. She doesn’t miss a note in the song she’s playing on the piano

Bellatrix doesn’t come to greet her. She goes straight to the kitchen, probably the liquor cabinet by the sounds of the clinking drifting in from the other room.

Narcissa stops playing when she hears a glass break.

“Those are crystal,” She calls.

Bellatrix zips into the room with inhuman speed, whisky sloshing in her glass. She grins in leu of an apology.

“The place looks good, Cissy. You’ve always been so talented at keeping up with the times. Never one to fall out of style,”

Narcissa sighs and stands to face her sister. She hasn’t changed a bit. Unlike Narcissa, Bellatrix refuses to change at the pace of the world around her. Her style evolves at her own leisure and she’s barely dragged herself out of the 19th century, still favoring floor length black dresses and corsets.

“Where have you been?”

Bellatrix takes a sip and gestures vaguely, “Here and there,”

“Looking for your little soulmate?”

Bellatrix rolls her eyes and walks away from her, fussing with the trinkets and photographs adorning the mantle of the fireplace. “Not this time. I was hunting,”

“Kill anyone good?”

“Some lower level Order members. I can’t even recall their names. The little fuckers just keep breeding and converting, but I like to be optimistic. It’s just more blood sacks for me to rip open in mother and father’s names,”

Narcissa chuckles, “I’m sure they’d be very proud,”

Bellatrix downs her drink and raises her chin proudly. Narcissa marvels at how little she’s changed since she was a child. Father always used to call her his little demon, and mother called her the little spitfire of the family. Ever since she was little Bellatrix has been fiercely protective of her family. It’s why she took the death of their parents the hardest. Narcissa and Andromeda were satisfied when they tracked down the men who’s set the house ablaze.

It’s why Bella joined Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he liked to go by now. The ancient vampire is even older than them, turned back in the 1400s. His vendetta against the Order stretched back long before Bella was born, so it was only a matter of time before she found him and swore herself to him in exchange for their destruction.

Voldemort keeps her on a loose leash, trading information with her and letting her punish her findings as she sees fit. He calls on her sparingly, though whenever he does it takes so much out of her. Narcissa has met the man only once, and the single experience has made her terrified for her sister. To be in his presence is to be in the midst of true, ancient evil. She fears Bellatrix becoming like him, twisted beyond recognition by a fruitless quest for vengeance.

Bellatrix’s voice interrupts her musings, “What is there to do for fun around here? You have any favorite places to eat?”

“There’s lost of dark alleyways in Diagon Alley. The students from a local private school venture there often. I know you like them young,”

Bellatrix rolls her eyes, tossing her head back dramatically, “You make it sound gross. Young blood is healthier, stronger. It’s not polluted with the ailments of old age _and_ their minds recover easier when I erase their memories. Besides, physically you and I aren’t much older than them,”

“I’m just teasing you, Bella. I know. This town is mostly made up of the very young and the very religious,”

“Right, remind me why you settled here, again? The Order operates under the assumption that they’re doing God’s work, so why live somewhere where they likely have influence?”

“Hogwarts School for Gifted Boys and Girls is one of the best schools on the continent, and Draco only deserves the best. If I can snuff out any Order members along the way, then you’ll be the first to know. I don’t fear them,”

“You should,” Bellatrix says darkly, “They killed mother and father. They were twice the vampires you or I will ever be,”

Narcissa disagrees, but she knows better than to voice her opinion with Bellatrix on that front. The three sisters are older now than their parents ever grew to be, and Bellatrix is far fiercer. She knows that once her sister loves and idolizes someone, there’s nothing you can say or do to diminish her devotion. It’s one of the things she loves about her.

“I’m being extremely cautious. Besides, the Order doesn’t know about pure blood vampires. Having a son and a husband absolves me of suspicion. You’re alone, so you’ll have to be more careful than I. Stick to the shadows, alright?”

“As if I have a choice,” Bellatrix says, “I’m going to get something to eat. Would you like me to bring something back for you?”

“If you’d be so kind,” she says, resuming her song. Bellatrix turns to leave. “Be discreet!”

Bellatrix leaves, her laugh lingering in the air. Lucius descends the stair almost as soon as she’s alone and her fingers cease their movements once again.

“Is she gone?” He asks.

Narcissa rises to greet her husband, pecking him on the cheek, “Yes, dear, your big bad sister-in-law is gone. She won’t be for long, though. She’s always quick to catch her prey,”

Lucius sighs and wraps her in his arms, “She better behave. And she better not break any of my things this time,”

“I’m sure she’ll find ways to entertain herself. She’s never been one to stay in one place for too long. She always spends most of her time out and about, and she’ll grow tired of our humble little town quickly,”

The pair of them curl up on the loveseat and await Bellatrix’s return. Narcissa rests her head on Lucius’s shoulder and reads the open book on his lap along with him, enjoying the quiet. Nights like these she likes to pretend Draco is just upstairs, nose buried in his homework. He stays at the dormitories provided by the school, though, to preserve the facade of normalcy. She became pregnant with him before she turned Lucius, so he’s only a half-blood. This allows him certain benefits, like being able to walk in the sun. It makes it easier to blend in. All vampires are cursed to burn in the daylight except half-bloods, which can only be produced by pure-bloods mating with humans. She's happy Draco is able to have what's quite nearly a completely normal life. 

Narcissa dozes on her husband’s shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Bellatrix is back before the fire dies out, a tall redheaded boy in tow. One look at his glossed over eyes and beguiled expression lets her sister know he’s under Bellatrix’s thrall completely. She tugs him along by the arm, plopping down in the armchair and pulling his arm so his wrist lay exposed to her.

“Not on the carpet, Bella, please. I’ve just had it cleaned,” Narcissa says.

Bellatrix stops a breath away from the man’s wrist to glare at her sister. “You’re no fun,” Bellatrix pouts.

Bellatrix yanks him out of the living room and through the archway leading to the dining room. The ebony hardwood floor would clean just fine. She shoves the man into a chair at the table and kneels in front of him. She tears into his exposed wrist with no thought of cleanliness. Blood spurts in every which direction and she digs in hungrily, hot spurts filling her mouth anew each time she swallows.

“Fix me a glass before you completely drain him, will you?” Narcissa calls, following her to the other room. 

Bellatrix pulls her mouth away and covers her puncture wounds with her fingers, “Come get it yourself. I’ve done the work in getting him here,”

She returns to her meal and it’s not long before she hears Narcissa approach from behind. She lets out a small noise of disgust.

“This is ridiculous. Do you have to make such a mess every time?”

Bellatrix gives a wet growl in response. She shakes her head, making the blood come out faster. Narcissa taps her shoulder until she looks at her, and she presents a wine glass.

She withdrawals again reluctantly and presses her fingers against his wound so it spurts accurately into her sister’s glass.

“Say when,” Bellatrix grumbles.

The glass is nearly overflowing when Narcissa says, “When,”

Bellatrix sinks her teeth in again, and the man groans weakly. He shoves at her shoulders, making her latch on harder instinctually. Without removing her mouth, she pins him with a look and forces her will on him.

 _Relax,_ she thinks, _Your pain will end soon._

The front of her dress is soaked through now, rivets of blood pouring from her mouth. The last bits always taste the best. She can taste the life leaving his body. It feels like she’s drinking his soul.

“Stop, Bella. We can’t kill them all,”

Bellatrix knows she’s right, but she can’t bring herself to give a damn. The animal inside her wants to kill, and why shouldn’t she?

“Think of what a pain it is to dispose of a body,” Narcissa says, “You can glamour him to clean up his own mess,”

Bellatrix yanks his wrist away from her mouth, gasping. She punctures the tip of her finger with a fang and runs her blood across his wound, the bleeding ceasing instantly. She rises to her feet and takes slow, deep breaths, quelling the bloodlust. She’ll spare him today, but she’s never been very good at keeping playthings around for long without slipping up.

Narcissa rubs her back in a rare display of affection, “Go clean yourself up. I’ll handle him,”

Bellatrix wipes her mouth, only serving to smear the mess of blood covering the lower part of her face. She abandons the half-dead man and begins stripping on her way to the bathroom. Downstairs, of course, so she doesn’t get blood on her sister’s precious carpet.

The guest bathroom is as extravagant as the rest of the house. _Malfoy Manor,_ her sister calls it. She hates that her sister took that man’s last name, no matter how much respect the Malfoy name commands in the human world. No name is as noble or ancient as Black.

She licks her fingers before turning the faucet on the clawfoot tub. The scalding water fills it as she finishes removing her dress, leaving it on a pile away from the plush white mat. The bathroom is covered in cold, black tile, contrasting against the flawless porcelain of the tub and sink.

Once the tub is full, Bellatrix sinks into it with a grateful sigh. The remaining blood seeps into the water, tinting it pink. She grabs the hanging lavender above the tub and breaks off the petals to scatter them in the water. She slips down, up to her chin, and lets the hot water sooth her aching muscles. The man had put up a fight before her influence took over. She’s not used to being fought, not anymore.

The door creaks open and Narcissa slips in, still nursing a half-full glass of fresh blood. She perches precariously on the edge of the tub.

“Where did you find him? He’s delicious,”

“An odd little place called Flourish and Blotts. That pathetic little bookshop slash bar is brimming with filthy little humans who think they’re so very important,” Bellatrix scoffs, “So pretentious. I could slaughter them all without breaking a sweat. That would show them,”

Flourish and Blotts is the perfect place to find victims. The late night bookstore doubles as a bar that has open mic nights for writers and musicians. It helps that the clientele seems to be poets and moody teenagers who are easily enamored by the air of darkness Bellatrix carries with her.

“Well, then we’d have to leave town again. I don’t want to do that. I quite like being home,”

“This isn’t home,” Bellatrix flicks her wrist, getting a few drops of water on Narcissa, “London is home,”

Narcissa sighs, “London stopped being home when Mother and Father were murdered. We have to make the most of where we are now. Oh, damn it, you got bathwater in my glass,”

Bellatrix snickers and slides further into the tub, so only her eyes remain above water. They glint mischievously.

Narcissa recognizes the look and rises from her perch before she can cause any more trouble.

Bella’s voice catches her before she can leave, “Would you like to keep this one? Since he’s _so yummy,”_

 _“_ A ginger boy, hmm? I thought you only liked us to hold onto the little brunette girls,”

Bellatrix twirls her wet curls between her fingers, “Perhaps I’m tired of searching. I’ve moved on,”

“Hmm, careful, Bella. That’s exactly the kind of thing one says before they find exactly what they’ve been searching for,”

Bellatrix doubts it. She’s been searching since before she stopped aging. She’s beginning to think the ominous prophesy is nothing more than a cruel joke meant to toy with her mother’s emotions. The likelihood of finding someone at this point who’s capable of awakening anything in her is slim to none. She’s been cold and desolate inside for far too long to have any hope of ever seeing a sunrise.

 

* * *

 

_Help Wanted_

Hermione Granger’s eyes brighten when she’s sees the flyer in the window of her favorite bookstore. Flourish and Blotts hasn’t hired anyone since she started visiting back in her second year at Hogwarts. It’s one of the hottest spots for students and young adults alike to hang out, after all. There aren’t many places for underaged students to hang out where alcohol is served, and the bar/bookstore combination makes it the perfect spot. Apart from that, it’s within walking distance from Hogwarts. Hermione’s always loved it for its late hours, allowing her a comfortable spot to study late into the night.

The smell of old books hits her as soon as she opens the door. The little bell jingles and Cedric Diggory, the manager, brightens when he sees her.

“Hermione, I’m so happy to see you. Did you see the sign?”

Hermione smooths out her cardigan as she winds around the piles of books to the front counter. She’s concerned at looking professional despite the fact that Cedric’s seen her several times a week for the past two years.

“I did, and I would love a chance to interview-”

“You’re hired,” Cedric interrupts, grinning.

Hermione stumbles on a stray textbook, “Wait-seriously?”

“Of course! Are you kidding, Hermione? I’ve known you for years. You’re easily the smartest, most responsible person I know. Besides, you’ve been bugging me for an opening here for months. I know how much you need this,”

He’s right. Between paying for her private school and saving for college, her parents were struggling to pay their mortgage. She needs a part time job if she wants to have a shot at going to a college worthy of her. This would be perfect. She sees Cedric studying at the bar during slow moments all the time.

“We need someone to work the register. You’ll only be selling books since you’re not old enough to serve alcohol yet,”

“Did someone leave? Why is there an opening?”

“Well, Bill didn’t show up to his shifts all last week. When I finally got ahold of him, he said he left town,”

Hermione frowns, “That doesn’t sound like him,”

“No,” Cedric agrees, “It’s all very strange. Maybe ask Ginny about it? Anyway, all we can do is move on I suppose. So, do you want it?”

Hermione brushes off the anxiety she feels over Bill picking up and leaving like that and smiles.

“Yes, yes I do,”

 

* * *

 

School finishes at 3 each day. There’s debate club afterwards, and then Hermione returns to the dorm room she shares with Ginny Weasley to change out of her uniform into something more comfortable for the second part of her day. She then walks the few blocks to Diagon Alley and starts her shift at 6:30. Three days a week she works from 4:30 to midnight, leaving her weekends free for schoolwork. Her life is full and busy but she’s happy. She knows she’s working towards a bright future. She’ll earn her degree and work her way out of debt, then she’ll pay off her parent’s mortgage, their car bill, everything.

Her parents protest when she tells them she’s picked up a part time job, but once they hear where it’s at and that she can do homework while she works, they feel better about it. The hardest part is getting trained on the register, but once she gets that down the job is hardly a job at all. She gets maybe a couple customers an hour, and once the sun sets and the late night patrons roll in, she just gets to sit back and enjoy the show.

There’s a stage in Flourish and Blotts, and in her little corner surround by books she gets to sit back and enjoy her view. When it’s packed she can’t see the stage, but the sounds flood the building. Monday through Thursday the mic is open to poets, writers, or even the occasional student reading an essay aloud. Weekends are for live music, though most of the time the band is the same. Neville and Luna have their own little group, with Neville playing the guitar and Luna singing and playing odd tunes on her keyboard. They make quite the pair, their strange music suiting the establishment nicely.

It’s a bit lonely. Once Cedric has her trained on the register she spends most of the shift alone, though the quiet makes studying easier. It’s almost startling when a customer slides a book across the counter and she remembers she’s at work.

By the time her third Friday night rolls around she’s settled into a comfortable routine. The sun sets and she’s cozy on her stool, in her pink hoody and jeans with her history book open in front of her. Luna’s silvery voice fills the room, accompanied by Neville’s soft strumming. Hermione almost feels like she’s in a trance, until she feels a strange prickling at the back of her neck. Her stomach flips with uncertainty.

It feels like she’s being watched.

She looks up slowly from her book to survey the room. There isn’t anyone on her side of the shop. Everyone is either staring into their drinks at the bar or swaying along to Luna’s voice. There are few spots she can’t see. She tries to brush it off, to return to reading, but the unsettled feeling remains. It grows stronger the longer she ignores it until she snaps her eyes up once again.

She spots a dark figure standing motionless on the second floor of the shop. The stairs to get to that floor are behind her, and it doesn’t make any sense that anyone could have gotten past her without her noticing. She slams her book shut and places a “be back soon” sign on the counter. She makes her way up the spiral staircase, keeping her eyes on the still black silhouette the whole way up.

The only light is the silvery stage light accompanying her friend’s performance. It makes it impossible to make out any distinct features, apart from the slimness that makes her certain it’s a woman.

She reaches the second story and the figure turns to face her.

“Who are you?” Hermione asks.

Hermione freezes in her tracks when the mystery woman advances on her. She feels an onslaught of dread as she draws closer, like some instinctual desire to run from a predator. The silver light moves and glances across the woman’s face, revealing skin the color of moonlight and a shock of dark hair.

“Do not be afraid,” a low, silky voice says. She stops her approach, holding up her hands in an attempt to look unthreatening.

“Step into the light,” Hermione says, her voice shaking.

“The light, hmm? You shouldn’t fear things under the cloak of darkness. Light…changes nothing,”

The voice is beautiful, melodic, but Hermione can’t fight the climbing panic inside of her. The woman steps forward again, one hand reaching for her, into the light. She sees long, slender fingers and red nails…she runs.

She takes the stairs two at a time, flying down them and crashing straight into Cedric.

Hermione screams until she realizes who’s gripping her arms.

“Jesus, Hermione, whats the matter?” Cedric says, clutching her tighter to keep her from running.

“S-someone upstairs…” she can’t articulate why she’s so terrified.

Cedric looks past her, peering up the stairs. “I don’t see anyone,” he says.

Hermione is too terrified to check for herself. She stares past Cedric, at the exit. Luna’s voice sounds distant now, distorted, like she’s hearing it underwater.

“You’re shaking. Look, just take the rest of the night off. I can cover it for the next few hours,” Cedric gives her a little shake and Hermione snaps out of it enough to look at him.

She nods slowly, trying to collect herself.

“Do you need someone to walk you home?” He asks.

Hermione shakes her head, finding her voice, “No, no, I’m being silly. It’s alright. I’ll be okay,”

She’s trying to convince herself. Even as the seconds tick by it seems ridiculous to be terrified of a woman shrouded in darkness. She didn’t say or do anything threatening, after all. She grabs Cedric’s forearm.

“Just-just come with me to check okay?”

Cedric nods, and he heads up the stairs in front of her. They check out the entire second floor and don’t find anyone. She’s not sure if the woman’s mysterious disappearance is comforting or if it makes the whole experience all the more terrifying. It shouldn’t be possible. Maybe she imagined the whole thing.

The odd encounter sticks with her. She decides to stay and finish her shift. She even walks herself home, keys clutched between her fingers the entire way. The walk home is desolate at the late hour but well lit, and she makes it back in one piece. Ginny is asleep already, sprawled out and still wearing her field hockey jersey. The light is still on, thankfully, and it’s enough to quell some of Hermione’s nerves. She draws the curtains before changing, still feeling as if something sinister is nearby. The steady sound of Ginny’s soft snores comforts her, but she still leaves the light on after she crawls into bed.

It takes her an hour to relax, matching her breathing with Ginny’s. Her eyes slip shut at last, plunging her into the land of dreams. She’s walking through the wildflower fields behind her parents house, towards the thicket of pine trees that lie ahead. The sun is setting, but it’s warm and everything is bathed in gold light.

She’s home.

She reaches the trees, winding between the trunks and off the beaten path towards the sound of running water. She reaches the gentle stream she loves so much. Theres a towering willow tree by it, her favorite spot to read at as a child. She settles down in that familiar place, the smell of blooming flowers and damp earth drifting over her. She sighs happily, leaning back agains the trunk and hugging her knees to her chest. She sits there for a bit, enjoying the sound of the water and the chirping birds.

Then a twig behind her snaps.

She jumps to her feet and whirls around. She’s had this dream before, and she’s always alone. Always.

Her defenses drop the moment her eyes find those of the intruder. She’s beautiful. She looks like she’s made of moonlight, with her shining pale skin and mess of dark hair cascading down her back. There’s a soft smile on her full red lips, and she looks very nonthreatening in her loose, lacy white dress. Still, there’s something off about her. She’s very still, standing there smiling, not even the rise and fall of breath gracing her chest.

“Who are you?” Hermione asks, finally finding her voice.

The woman steps forward, the low hanging leaves of the willow tree brushing against her shoulders. Hermione takes a step backwards, her back bumping against the trunk.

“Don’t be afraid,” The woman says, her voice light and sweet, “My name is Bella. What’s yours?”

“You’re in my dream,” Hermione says, “Shouldn’t you know?”

Bella furrows her brow adorably and tilts her head, “Oh, is this your dream? I thought it was my own,”

Hermione narrows her eyes but her shoulders relax. Bella is strange, yes, but this is _her_ dream and she’s in control. She seems nonthreatening enough.

“Okay, then. My name is Hermione,”

Bella’s mouth twitches as that, soft brown eyes unblinking and mesmerizing, “Hermione. That’s a nice name. You don’t hear it often today,”

“Thank you. I was picked on for it when I was younger,”

The woman’s beautiful face twitches and her eyes flash, “And what were their names? Something commonplace and boring, I’m sure,”

Hermione smiles a little, “Pansy, Vincent and Draco were the worst of them. Ron wasn’t great at first either, but we’re good friends now,”

Bella wrinkles her nose at the names. “Terrible, I knew it. They’re just jealous,”

Hermione laughs and Bella smiles at the sound, taking it as an invitation to come closer. She walks right into Hermione’s space and looks her up and down, drinking her in. Hermione shifts under the intense gaze.

“What are you reading?” Bella asks, her breath tickling Hermione’s face.

“Hmm?” Hermione looks down, only just noticing she has a book in her hands. She turns it over so they can see the cover. _Wuthering Heights._

“Oh, I like that one,” Bella says. She reaches for the book, her hand brushing against Hermione’s.

She gasps, jerking away, “You’re freezing, Bella,”

“Oh,” Bella looks surprised, “Sorry about that. Here, is this better?”

She reaches for her again, this time for her free hand. She’s much warmer this time, and her hand is so soft as she laces their fingers together. Hermione’s stomach flutters and this close she could count each one of Bella’s eyelashes.

The sun has set now, the cool air of the evening sending a shiver down her spine. It’s strange. The sun has never set in this dream before.

“You’re the cold one, now,” Bella says, taking another step forward and pulling Hermione into a hug.

She’s enveloped by her warmth, the smell of pine and roses settling over her. The bare skin of Bella’s arm slides around Hermione’s neck, trapping her in a warm but soft embrace. It’s gentle enough for her to know she can pull away if she wants to.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asks, going still against her. She hears Bella breathe in, smelling her hair.

“Keeping you warm,” Bella shifts, brushing her lips against her neck. Hermione gasps, a shock running through her at the contact. If this were real, she would pull away, But it isn’t, so what’s the harm in indulging it for a moment? She tilts her head to the side, submitting to her.

Bella smiles against her skin before parting her lips and sucking on the exposed skin. Hermione shudders and drags a hand through Bella’s silky curls, encouraging her. Bella nips lightly at her, sending little shocks from her neck down through the entirety of her. Every nerve stands on end.

“I can feel your heart,” Bella whispers, one hand cupping the other side of Hermione’s neck, right against her thrumming pulse point. She nips her again, harder this time.

“Ow,” Hermione complains, “Too hard,”

Bella chuckles, a dark, sultry sound that does things to Hermione’s head. She kisses the spot apologetically, then drags her tongue from her neck up to the edge of her jaw, just below her ear.

“Meet me here again, tomorrow night, all right?” She asks, kissing her earlobe.

“What?” Hermione murmurs, too distracted by Bella’s touches to understand what she means. The world feels like its shimmering around her, and the woman sounds farther away now.

“Will you do that for me, Hermione?”

“Hermione? Hermione?”

“What?” Hermione’s eyes fly open to find Ginny’s freckled face staring down at her.

“You’re going to be late for class, get up!” Ginny rips the blankets off of her and Hermione groans.

“Five more minutes,” Hermione shuts her eyes, willing the dream to come back to her. She can still smell the roses. If she could just have a moment longer-

A pillow hits her in the face, shattering the illusion and driving the smell away.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re usually up an hour before me,”

Hermione gets up and shuffles to the bathroom, “I was having a good dream,” she grumbles.

“I heard,” Ginny follows her, leaning against the doorframe while Hermione washes her face, “ _Bella, Bella, you’re so beautiful, Bella!”_

Hermione flicks water at her, blushing. She’s never been one to talk in her sleep before, but with one that vivid she supposes it makes sense. She starts brushing her teeth, ignoring her roommate.

“I didn’t know you swung that way, Hermione. Ron will be disappointed,”

Ginny leaves her before she can respond. She has to rush to get ready, throwing her things unceremoniously into her bag and forgoing a tie for the day. She jogs across campus, walking through the door to History as the bell rings.

“Just in the nick of time, Miss Granger,” Professor Binns says.

Hermione mumbles an apology, rubbing her eyes on her way to her desk. She’s right in the middle, between Ron and Harry. Ron’s resting his cheek on his fist, his eyes slipping shut before the lecture’s even started. Hermione pulls out her notebook as quietly as she can and steels herself to pay attention to Binns’s droning voice. Half the class depends on her for the notes she takes this period.

Routine can’t shake the eerily beautiful dream from her mind. Bella asked her to meet her again, was that even possible? She can’t control her dreams, she’s never been able to summon the willow tree dream before.

She sighs and finds her gaze wandering to the cracked window. There’s a raven sitting on the windowsill, peering in at the class with a tilted head. It reminds her of the way Bella tilted her head in the dream last night. The raven looks at her and fluffs up a bit, trilling softly. It hops excitedly from foot to foot. Hermione has to stifle a laugh, looking away. Professor Binns is glaring.

Hermione hunches over her notebook, forcing herself to ignore the bird and pay attention to her studies.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t see the bird again that day. It gets easier to brush off the dream and the odd bird as the day goes by. The dream slips farther away the more she tries to think about it, like sand in her fists. The normalcy makes the day pass in a blur and before she know it she’s back from work and it’s past midnight. The second Hermione enters her room she knows something is wrong, the boring routine of her day shattered. Ron is sitting on Ginny's bed with his arm around her, both of their faces pale and devastated. Ginny has tears running down her face and Ron just looks like he's in shock. Hermione stops, keys still in hand, eyes darting between the two of them. 

"What's happened?" She asks. 

Ron blinks at her like he hadn't noticed her come in despite her standing right in front of him. Ginny tries to respond but a sob claws its way out of her throat. 

Ron clears his throat, "Um, it's Bill. They...they found him," 

Hermione hangs her keys and approaches the siblings, kneeling in front of them, "What do you mean...found him?" 

"His..his body," 

Ginny sobs again and Ron brings a hand to his face, trying to hide the tears falling down his cheeks. Hermione grasps each of their hands in her own, squeezing painfully as she feels the world spin around her. She didn't know Bill very well, but she can't imagine the pain that two of her closest friends must be feeling. They all were so unconcerned with his whereabouts and now who knows how long he’s been dead for?

Hermione can't find the words to comfort them. She surges forward, wrapping her arms around the pair of them. Ron sniffles loudly and Ginny cries into her neck, tears seeping down onto Hermione's shirt. 

"They-they said it was an animal attack. That his-his throat was ripped open," Ron blubbers. 

"Oh my God," Hermione breathes, tears filling her own eyes. 

The door slams open and Hermione twists her head without letting go to see Harry's eyes frantically taking them in. When he sees the state they're all in he hurries over and sits next to Ginny, pulling her out of Hermione's arms and into his own. He grasps Ron's shoulder wordlessly, giving him a look that says _you don't have to explain._ Mrs. Weasley must have called him. Harry is as much a son to her as any of her biological children.

Ron and Harry end up sleeping in their dorm and Hermione, usually a stickler for rules, can't care less for them at the moment. Tonight nothing matters outside of this room. Ginny sleeps in her bed and Ron and Harry pass out with their shoulders pressed together in Ginny's bed. Ginny wraps herself around Hermione, face buried in her hair. She can't fall asleep until Ginny's cried herself dry, shuddering breaths finally evening and transitioning to snores.

The familiar sound of Ginny's snores lulls her to sleep. She's forgotten about the dream she had the night before until she opens her eyes and finds herself by the willow tree once again. 

Bella is waiting for her, sitting in Hermione's usual spot and reading her book. She's wearing the same lace dress, her legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. She looks up when Hermione draws near and pouts at her.

"You're late,”

Hermione looks around her in awe, “How am I back here?”

“How would I know? This is your dream. I suppose you just wanted to see me again,”

Hermione can’t come up with anything clever to say in response. She’s exhausted, even in her sleep. She stumbles forward a step, reaching towards the trunk to steady herself. Bella is before her in an instant, grasping at her forearms. She brushes a lock out of Hermione’s face with a concerned expression.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

She’s too exhausted to pull away. She doesn’t want to, even if it’s strange. Bella has this magnetic pull to her; the smell of her and the warmth of her skin draws her in and she doesn’t see a reason to fight off her desires when she’s dreaming them up.

“My friend’s brother was killed. Horrifically. I’ve spent the night comforting Ron and Ginny, two of his siblings. I’m just so tired. Why am I tired if I’m dreaming?”

Bella pulls her so her cheek is lying flat against her bosom. Hermione’s cheeks grow hot but she doesn’t fight it, she only melts into her. Bella shushes her and runs her nails across her scalp soothingly.

“Come lay with me, sweetling, and tell me your troubles,” Bella tugs her down and she curls against her. In her dreams the ground is more forgiving than is should’ve been and the grass is soft, tickling her skin in the cool breeze.

Hermione tells her about her day, beginning with the raven and ending with the details of Bill’s death. Bella continues to stroke her hair while she talks, until all her troubles melt away.

“Do you think the raven was a bad omen?” Hermione asks. She tugs at a loose thread on Bella’s dress, a flaw in her perfect image. The thread pulls loose, marring the repeating design.

“No. Ravens represent prophesy. Perhaps your lifelong destiny is about to come to pass,”

“‘I don’t believe in destiny,” Hermione says, rolling away from her companion and onto her back. The sun has set again, and the stars shimmer above them. Bella leans over her, blocking Hermione’s view of the heavens. She doesn’t mind, Bella’s glimmering eyes are far brighter than any star.

“Don’t you believe in a higher power? God?” Bella brings a hand to her chest, poking at the golden cross that hangs there.

“I only believe in free will. The cross was my grandmother’s, and it’s a requirement of the school uniform to wear one. As for God, I have a hard time believing in anything I can’t see with my own eyes,”

Bella smiles, a long strand of curly hair falling over her shoulder and tickling Hermione’s face, “So you believe in me?”

Hermione can’t find the smile creeping onto her face. Bella’s good mood is contagious. “I believe I must have a very vivid imagination to dream someone like you up,”

Bella hums, “And what if I tell you I’m real?”

“Well, then you’d have to prove it. Why haven’t you found me in real life?”

Bella leans down, ghosting her lips across Hermione’s cheek, “You wouldn’t like me in real life,” she whispers.

Hermione sighs, “I like you here, how different can it be? I don’t know why I’m arguing with you when you’re not even real,”

Bella pulls back and gives her another pout, “That’s rude,”

Hermione laughs and lopes her arms around Bella’s neck, pulling her into a hug. Bella’s fingers dance up her ribs and Hermione yelps and wriggles against her. She ceases abruptly, pressing against her hips and holding her still,

“Our time is almost up,” Bella says sadly, “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

Hermione opens her mouth to protest, but the blaring of her alarm yanks her from Bella’s arms.

 

* * *

 

A week passes and no news comes of Bill’s death. They don’t know what animal did it or why, but now Cedric walks her home from her shifts every night and hardly anyone is out alone past sundown. Words like _vampire_ and _werewolf_ are being tossed around, but there’s no stock in it. For now it’s just a mystery, and thankfully an isolated incident.

Without Ginny to study with, Hermione’s been spending a lot of time in the library. She hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep after her late shifts, but with all the unrest in her life she finds it hard to relax. The time she does spend sleeping always includes Bella. The etherial woman is always content to listen to Hermione’s every thought as long as she lets her cuddle up with her. Hermione doesn’t mind. The woman is a better listener than anyone she’s ever met. And it doesn’t hurt that she’s devastatingly beautiful.

It makes it easier to open up. She tells her about her parents, how she’s working so hard so she can help them afford her school along with their mortgage. She talks about her feet hurting after walking to and from work following a long day of tedious walks from dorm to class to more class. Every trivial thing about her life Bella listens to with rapt interest. There’s nothing she’s said that she felt bored her. She stares at her with this wide, unblinking gaze like there is no detail about Hermione that’s not worth knowing.

Bella, however, shuts down completely if Hermione asks her anything about herself. She hasn’t learned anything about her, though she supposes since these are her dreams maybe she doesn’t have the depth of imagination to conjure a backstory.

Her uneventful week comes to end on Thursday morning. She’s at the library early, like she’s been doing often lately and it’s deserted, which is exactly how she prefers it. The librarian gives her a tired smile, she herself having only arrived minutes before. Hermione finds a spot towards the back, secluded by rows of shelves. 

She's immersed in her first draft of an English essay when she hears a rustling across from her. She looks up to see Professor Lockhart unpacking his briefcase directly in front of her. She fights off the irritation at being disturbed while in an empty library and forces a polite smile. 

"Hello, Professor. I'm working on your essay now," 

 "The midterm essay, really? You're quite early on that, Miss Granger," 

"Yes, I like to get a head start on these things so I have extra time to edit a final draft," 

"Very wise of you. Which of my novels did you choose to write your paper on?" 

" _Magical Me,_ sir," She says shortly, her patience running thin at the prolonged interruption. 

"Is that so?" He exclaims, his volume harsh in the quiet of the library. 

Hermione nods, returning to writing and hoping he'll take the hint. He doesn't. 

"That's one of my favorites. How's it coming along?" He rounds the table to look over her shoulder, the sent of his cologne making her stomach roll. 

She clears her throat, "Fine," 

A heavy, warm hand clasps her shoulder and Lockhart leans down, his coffee-breath washing over her face, "You know, since you're going to be finished early you can always stop by my classroom after hours and we can go over it together. I know how...committed you are to having the perfect marks," 

His hand slides down her shoulder to caress her arm. A tapping at the window snaps Hermione out of her shock and she jerks away from him like she's been burned. She nearly falls out of her seat in her attempt to get away from him as fast as she can. His hand drops to his side and he gives her a confused look as if he has no idea what he did wrong. She stumbles over a chair as she's backing away from him, snatching her things away from him and shoving them back in her bag. She shoots a glance at the window and sees a raven- _the_ raven, tapping its beak against the class and fluffing up it's feathers like it's angry. It opens its mouth and she can hear its upset squawks even through the thick glass. 

"Have I done something to offend you?" 

Hermione's face is hot and she's so angry as she scrambles for something to say. He hasn't done anything-not _really,_ but she feels violated and viscerally uncomfortable all the same. It was the _way_ he said it, the suggestive lowering of his voice that sent all her defenses flying up.

"I don't need any help, is all," she forces out. 

She can't stand the mystified look on his face any longer. She flees from the library, ignoring the concerned look on the librarians face. She doesn't have enough time to go back to her dorm before class so she heads to History instead, arriving 20 minutes early and curling up outside the room. 

Her skin crawls where he touched her for the rest of the day. The man has always made her uncomfortable but she's managed to never be completely alone with him before. The previous year there was a rumor going around that he became involved with a student but so many of the girls have crushes on him that everyone thought it was one of them spreading wishful thinking like it was fact. 

She hates him. She hates that she can't report him without sounding like one of his fan girls. He did just enough to be able to plausibly deny it if she repeats it to anyone, but he certainly made his desires clear enough to her. It makes her sick to imagine that man looking at her or anyone at the school like that. 

She puts it out of her mind when the first bell rings, electing to sort out her feelings later. Last night proved to be especially cathartic, confiding in someone so willing to listen. Bella promised she would be back the next night again if Hermione wanted, and she does, she really does. 

Ginny and Ron are back in class that day after their week at home. It doesn’t feel like enough time, but Ginny insists she needs things to go back to normal.It's comforting to know they'll all be together again. The four of them are like a family of their own, and Hermione is ready to be there for them in any way she can. She’s never known what it’s like to have a sibling until she found friends at Hogwarts, and now she feels like she’s gained a second, bigger family.

She falls asleep fast, and when she starts dreaming she's surprised to find herself in a hallway instead of a forest. 

It's a hallway at Hogwarts. The school is empty and silent, all the lights off except one classroom up ahead. She follows the light and she sees it's her English classroom. This dream is different than the ones she’s been having. She feels less in control, like she's moving against her will. She wants control, she wants her willow tree. 

She wants Bella. 

She walks through the door and Gidory Lockhart is sitting at his desk, proofreading papers. She wants to get out of there but she finds herself rooted to the spot. He looks up, his face twisting into a malicious grin. He jumps out of his chair and darts towards her. 

"Granger, I'm so glad you decided to take me up on my offer! I knew my instincts were right about you," 

He shuts the door behind her and puts his hands on her shoulders, "I knew you were the kind of student willing to do whatever it takes to get a good grade," 

He leans down, shutting his eyes. Finally, the invisible weight trapping her in place is lifted and she struggles against him. His hands are like iron on her and she can't escape, feeling too weak to put up a good enough fight. She feels his stubble on her cheek and she twists and screams. 

"Whats the matter? You wouldn't have come here if you didn't want this," He husks, his breath hot on her face. His grip on her is painful now and she twists uselessly in his arms. 

He twirls her around and crushes her against him, pressed completely against her back. She shuts her eyes, reminding herself this isn't real and that she can wake up if she wants to. 

"You can't get away from me that easy," 

She screams again and he puts a clammy hand over her mouth, muffling the sound. Why isn't she waking up? 

Lockhart grunts and his weight disappears from her. She collapses forward, tripping on her feet and hitting the ground, her elbow slamming against the floor to break her fall. Lockhart screams and she whirls around to see Bella, her Bella, kneeling over the professor and stabbing something repeatedly into his neck. _A pencil,_ she realizes. 

When he stops moving, Bella turns and crawls towards her, the professors blood marring the white of her dress. Hermione scrambles away, fear and confusion making her stomach churn. Bella looks…different. Not like her Bella. She looks threatening, menacing.

Her back hits the closed door and Bella reaches her, pulling her into her arms and holding her agains her, Professor Lockhart’s blood soaking into her skin. Bella shushes her and pets her head with a bloody hand.

“I’ve got you now. Everything is okay,”

The world falls away, melts and spins around her and when she finds solid ground she’s back under the willow tree. She’s dry and Bella’s dress is clean. The woman is glowing again, vibrant and beautiful in the sun. Hermione’s racing heart slows and Bella nuzzles against her.

“You’re safe,” Bella murmurs.

Hermione pulls away from her and Bella lets her scoot away.

“What was that? How…how are we back here?”

Bella sits back on her heels and looks at her beneath heavy eyelids. The sun casts the shadow of her lashes across her cheeks as she watches her, chest heaving with adrenaline. “You were having a nightmare. You were _early,”_

“How did you stop it? _How_ are you able to pull me from a nightmare and bring me here?”

Bella shakes her head theatrically, her curls tossing from side to side, “You’re doing this, not me. You said it yourself, didn’t you? _I’m not real,”_

Now that Bella’s saying it, Hermione doesn’t believe her. It doesn’t make sense, she’s never done this before, she’s never been able to control her dreams or force a reoccurring location. She’s never imagined and met up with someone on multiple occasions. It has to be Bella. Everything must be connected to her. It all started with _her;_ the strange bird, Bill’s death.

Bella moves towards her and cups her face, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that man will never lay a finger on you again. I will take care of him for you,”

She wraps Hermione in her arms again and they melt against one another. Hermione’s heart pounds, and something in the back of her mind bristles, warning her.

 

* * *

 

Professor Lockhart is not in class the following day. 

She and the rest of the class sit and wait for him, only for the minutes to tick by more and more without him showing up. Bella’s words echo in her mind. She’s a dream, she’s only a dream. She can’t have done anything.

The intercom beeps, and Headmaster Dumbledore’s voice fills the room.

“There will be an assembly in the theater in 15 minutes, if you will all be so kind as to join me.

Do not be alarmed as this is not an emergency, though it is urgent. Teachers, please lead your classes to the theater immediately,” There’s a pause, and then, “Miss Granger, you will be leading Professor Lockhart’s class, please,”

Hermione pushes her worries to the side and snaps into action. Her peers roll their eyes when she orders them into a single-file line and does a headcount before allowing them to leave the room. The theater is on the far side of the school, so by the time they get there it’s nearly full.

“Meet back at the classroom once it’s over, all of you!” She calls to the class as they disperse to find any empty spots.

Harry waves Hermione over from his spot towards the front, and she takes the unoccupied seat next to him. Before she can ask him if he knows what’s going on, the lights flicker, signaling for everyone to quiet down. A hush falls over the auditorium when the headmaster walks onto the stage and situates himself in front of the ornate golden owl podium. He clears his throat and taps the microphone.

“Thank you all for getting here in a timely manor. I’m afraid I’ve received terrible news about one of our faculty that I felt ought to be shared with you all immediately,”

Hermione feels a heat crawling up her chest and sweat begins to form at her forehead. _It’s not possible. It can’t be possible._

“Now, not all the details have been released yet but our own Professor Lockhart has been taken to St. Mungos after suffering a sudden psychotic break from reality,”

Everyone starts talking at once except Hermione, who’s frozen with shock. She feels Harry looking at her, distantly hears him saying something but it feels like she’s trapped underwater. Dumbledore’s voice booms, silencing them all.

“Quiet! All that I know is he woke from sleep different than the day before. There were no warning signs leading to this, but for now he must be committed for his safety and the safety of others. We at Hogwarts are wishing him a speedy recovery but for now it is unknown when or if he will recover. Professor McGonagall will be taking over his duties as English Professor,”

 _In his sleep,_ Hermione thinks, the world spinning.

“I thought it best you all hear it from me. I know he is a greatly admired instructor here, and he will be missed for however long he is gone. You are dismissed,”

Hermione stands with everyone else, but she feels unsteady on her feet. She feels lethargic, and everything swirls around her when she takes a step. Harry is at her side, grasping her forearm and saying something that sounds very far away. She tries to take another step but darkness shrouds her vision and she collapses.

“Hermione,” A silky voice says, “Hermione, it’s okay. You’re safe now,”

 _Bella_?

Hermione struggles, pulling away from the arms that hold her. Bella is _bad,_ she thinks. Bella can drive her insane if she wants.

“No one will ever hurt you. I will always be here to protect you,”

She feels Bella’s warm hands sliding up her bare arms, then caressing her face. Hermione jerks her head away.

“Do not be afraid, darling. I’ll never hurt you,”

_Do not be afraid._

Bella has said the words before, but this time it elicits a memory. The stranger on the second floor of Flourish and Blotts that night. The woman held up her hands and said in that same melodious voice _do not be afraid_.

The realization washes over her like icy water and she shivers. The presence of that person was so utterly different than the way Bella comes off in her dreams, though now it seems Bella has been the one manipulating her dreams all along. The _real_ Bella was terrifying, something inside of her had wanted to get away as fast as possible, some survival instinct that told her to run.

 _You wouldn’t like me in real life,_ Bella said before. Now it all makes sense. Whatever Bella is, she isn’t all human if she’s able to walk in people’s dreams like this. She has to get away, _now._

“No,” Bella hisses, her demeanor twisting into something darker, “You’re mine,”

Hermione jerks awake. She sits up, her head spinning still and sees she’s in the infirmary. Nurse Pomfrey is bustling around her and she presses the back of her hand to her forehead.

“You gave us all quite a fright, Miss Granger,” she says, sticking a thermometer in her ear.

Hermione takes a deep breath and waits for her heart rate to return to normal. Harry pokes his head around the corner, a glass of ice water in his hand. He sighs in relief when he sees her sitting up.

“Blimey, Hermione, you scared the hell out of me,” He passes her the water and she gulps it down.

Pomfrey touches her head with an icepack and she jumps in surprise at the pain. “You hit your head on a chair on your way down so you’ll have quite a bump. Stay up for the next 24 hours in case you have a concussion. Now follow my finger with your eyes please,”

Harry rubs her shoulders while Pomfrey shines a light into her eyes. Her head is _throbbing,_ so she takes the ice pack from the nurse so she can press it firmly against the forming bruise.

“You seem alright, but I’ll send you back with some extra strength Tylenol since you’ve got quite the bump forming there. No more than two every four hours, alright dear?” Hermione nods, “Good. No class for the rest of the day and take tomorrow off too to catch up on sleep after your 24 hours,”

“Do you need to rest here more or are you ready to go back to your dorm?” Harry asks.

“I’m ready,” she responds, standing up. The world isn’t spinning anymore, but she feels sick to her stomach.

Harry helps her back to her room and Ginny is there waiting for her. She crushes Hermione in a hug the second she walks through the door, telling her how worried she was. She assures Harry she’ll take good care of her, and the two of them spend the rest of the day in bed watching movies. Cedric texts her that he heard what happened and not to worry about her shift that night.

Ginny vows to stay up with her but falls asleep by midnight. Hermione gets up and spends the rest of the night lost on the internet, researching creatures that can enter people’s dreams. After she gets passed the results about Freddy Kruger she gets into the really old myths. She finds a bit from shamanic legends to Native American healing rituals but she can’t find anything about people using it with malicious intentions.

After a frustrating, fruitless three hours of internet searching, she elects to spend the rest of the night wandering around campus. It’s eerie at night, like a completely different world from what it is during the day.

She leaves the castle-like walls of the school to make her way to the edge of the forest that sprawls on the outskirts of the campus. There’s rumors that students who have wandered too far in that forest disappeared without a trace, and that’s why the school banned anyone else from going in there. She wonders if beings like Bella are snatching people up. Maybe that’s where she is, right now.

She shivers at the thought. As soon as the thought enters her head her hair stands on end. It feels like something out there is watching her stare into the darkness. She can imagine Bella stepping out of the sinister woods, barefoot and grinning, reaching for her. She would scream and flee but Bella would catch her.

Hermione shakes herself out of it and decides it might be a better idea to spend the next few hours binge watching documentaries instead.

 

* * *

 

Ron visits her the next morning before classes start. She's had 3 cups of coffee to get through the night and her hair is still wet from the cold shower she took when he knocks. He's still in the fog he's been in since Bill died, but he looks well rested if not a little disheveled in his wrinkled uniform. 

She makes them both coffee, his first of the day and her fourth, and he sits uncharacteristically stiff in her desk chair when she perches on the edge of her bed to face him. 

"Is everything alright?" She asks. 

he takes a short sip of coffee and winces at the heat. "Um, yeah, I've just been thinking a lot since Bill...you know..." 

Hermione nods, trying to focus her tired mind on the importance of what he's trying to say. 

She rarely sees him this serious. 

He clears his throat, "Well, it made me realize that life is short, and anything can happen to make it even shorter. I felt like I needed to tell you how I feel. Bill always teased me about it and I know he'd want...he'd want me to tell you," 

His face is turning red and Hermione's is too once she realizes what he's telling her. 

"I've had the biggest crush on you since we met," He continues, talking fast now, "I was an ass at first because of it, but I realized how great you are and how much I love being around you. And I am so lucky to have you as a friend, and if that's the way you want it then...that's great but..."

He moves from the couch to the bed so he's sitting next to her, and he takes one of her hands in his own. Hermione blinks at him, trying to process. Before she can, he's talking again. 

"Would you want to go out tonight, once you've had a chance to rest?" 

"Oh, Ron, um..." Hermione cannot process this when she's this tired. She squeezes his hand, then runs her free hand through her wet hair. Ron is one of her favorite people in the world, and they've been there for each other through so much. It almost feels like this is the obvious next step for them. 

"Okay," she says at last. 

Rons eyes bulge, "Wait, really?" 

Hermione nods, a small smile on her face. He surges forward and kisses her clumsily on the cheek and pulls back, beaming. She walks him out, hugging him before he goes and then collapsing on her bed, exhausted. She's not sure how to feel until after she sleeps. In two hours it will have been 24 hours since she collapsed and she's fairly certain she doesn't have a concussion anyway. Regardless, after her realization about Bella she's too afraid to fall asleep. She's scared Bella will know she knows the second she sees her, and then what? If Bella knows she's afraid of her, that she knows she's real, what will she do? If her suspicions are true, then Bella can drive someone insane in their sleep. If she's capable of that, can she kill people in their sleep? 

She needs more time to sort out what she's going to do. She needs to do something to occupy herself until she has Ron to distract her tonight. And then...she doesn’t know. She can't stay awake forever. Eventually there will be some confrontation, though she hopes there's some logical explanation behind it all. For now, she just needs time. 

As if on cue, there's another knock at her door. The Headmaster is standing on the other side with a kind smile. 

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" He asks. 

Hermione glances nervously at the cramped messy room behind her, "Um, much better. Just a little tired. Sorry, would you like to come in, sir? It's very messy. I wasn't expecting-” 

"No, no, we can walk to the courtyard if you'd like? What I have to tell you won't take long," 

Hermione agrees and pulls on a her Hogwarts Debate Team sweatshirt, following him out of the building. She squints at the brightness of the sun once they're outside as they walk over to a stone bench where they can see the lake through the trees. 

They sit in silence for a moment, Dumbledore seeming content to just look out at the trees swaying in the breeze. 

"What was it you wanted to speak with me about, sir?" Hermione asks. 

"I have some wonderful, if not a bit odd, news for you," he says, turning to look at her, "An anonymous donor has paid off your loans to this school, as well as any future tuition for this year,"  

The breath leaves her at once, and she stares at him like she's waiting for the punchline. A dozen questions rush to her mind at once, and it takes her a moment to pick one. 

"Wait, someone did it _just_ for me? No one else?" 

"That is correct," 

"Why...I mean was it random? Why just me?" 

"That I don't know. Someone called and asked to pay for you specifically, and for us to consider it a donation," he explains. 

Hermione absorbs this, then has a terrible thought, "Was it a man or a woman?" 

Dumbledore seems to debate with himself on if he should divulge the information, but when he sees the worried look on her face he caves, "A woman," 

All she can do is nod slowly. She returns her eyes to the lake and if she shuts her eyes she can just barely hear the water lapping at the shore in the wind. For a second it's like she's at their spot by the stream, only she doesn't feel safe anymore. 

"Is there anything I should be aware of, Miss Granger?" 

She opens her eyes, the illusion shattered, and says, "No, sir," 

A vibrating in her pocket makes her jump. _Home_ appears on her screen. 

"I'm sorry sir, is it alright if I take this? It's my parents," 

"That's quite all right. Do tell them hello for me and tell them the good news," 

He leaves her on the bench and she answers. 

"Sweetheart, I'm calling with some good news!" 

Her stomach sinks and the bump on her head is throbbing with the pounding of her heart. She swallows, "What is it, dad?" 

"You can quit that job of yours. We don't have to worry about our mortgage anymore, so it's going to be much easier to afford your school from here on out," he says, and she can hear her mom saying something in the background, "Your mother says hello and that she loves you," 

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She's shaking her head, a dreadful feeling clawing from her stomach into her chest, "Tell mom I love her too. Let me guess, an anonymous donation paid for the house?" 

Her father laughs joyously, "How'd you know?" 

"Just a guess," she hesitates before saying, "Dad, I've just got the news that I qualify for a scholarship and it's going to cover the rest of my loans and the rest of this years tuition," 

She says it mechanically, unable to force an ounce of saccharine happiness into the words. She doesn't want to freak them out by telling them the whole truth. A good Samaritan paying off one debt is a miracle, someone paying off two major debts is too good to be true. 

Her father is stunned silent. After a moment, she hears him repeat it to her mother with an awestruck tone. 

"That's amazing news, hon. Someone must be watching over you," 

Hermione lets out a strangled laugh, "Yes, dad, it's beginning to feel that way," 

 

* * *

 

Hermione is pretty sure the raven is following her and Ron. She feels guilty for how quiet she's been despite how hard Ron is obviously trying to get her out of her funk. They went for drinks at the Drunken Huntsman and he's walking her back to the school when the raven swoops over them, too close for comfort. It misses Ron's head by an inch, making him duck and stumble before righting himself and glaring. 

"Bloody birds," he mumbles. 

Hermione frowns at the raven too, and it squawks and fluffs it's feathers like it's trying to intimidate them.  

"Come on," she says, tugging him along faster. The raven bounces from tree to tree as they walk and Hermione starts avoiding eye contact. 

"Maybe we should throw something at it. Y'know, scare it off," 

"No!" Hermione gasps. 

Ron rolls his eyes, "C'mon, I don't want to _hit_ it, just scare it," 

"You'll only make it mad," she whispers, like she's afraid it will hear her. And who knows, maybe it can understand her. Suddenly there's nothing that seems very out of the realm of reality anymore.  

They make it back safely. The raven watches them go inside from the tree closest to the building, and she could swear it's glaring. 

They both visibly relax once they're safe inside his dorm. He shares it with Harry, who's conveniently absent. The second Ron realizes they're alone in his room, he gets nervous again for a very different reason. 

Hermione takes off her coat and holds it, trying to find a convenient place to put it. Ron notices and flushes. 

"Oh, sorry, I'll take that for you,"  

He tosses both their coats on the desk chair. and plops onto the bed, patting the spot next to him with a little smile. She takes the spot next to him, putting her head on his shoulder. Her eyes drift shut and the gravity of how tired she is hits her. Her head spins and she nearly falls asleep on the spot until Ron clears his throat. 

"Is it alright if I...um..." 

She lifts her head to look at him and it's obvious what he's asking. Maybe she's deliriously tired or maybe she just wants to forget about Bella for a while, but she finds herself leaning forward. She has a moment to appreciate the surprised look on Ron's face before she brushes her lips against his. 

It starts out chaste, but then Ron cups the back of her head and tilts his own, deepening the kiss with a smoothness she didn't think him capable of. She runs a hand across his jaw, his stubble scraping across the palm of her hand, and threads a hand through his hair. His hand squeezes her thigh and she swings it around his waist, straddling him. He sucks in a sharp, surprised breath and she smiles at the reaction.

Ron moves his attention to her neck, giving her hot, open mouthed kisses. It’s sloppy but it feels good and she grinds gently down into him. She feels pent up, like she’s only just noticing something inside her that’s been dying to come out. And she feels safe and comfortable with Ron. She knows he won’t reject her, she knows she can work out her frustrations and desires with him without consequence.

The door bangs open and she jumps up so fast that she thinks she’s going to faint again for a second. Ron scoots back on the bed and grabs a pillow, hurriedly covering his lap.

“Bloody hell, Harry, I thought I told you to stay out late,”

The embarrassment mixed with disbelief on Harry’s face would’ve been hilarious any other time. Hermione tugs her coat back on and tosses a goodbye to Ron over her shoulder, shoving Harry’s shoulder on her way out.

“Awe, wait, ‘Mione, I can go!” Harry calls after her.

“You’ve ruined the mood!” She says, already halfway down the hallway.

The cool night air feels perfect on her hot face as she makes her way back to the girls dormitories. The raven is nowhere to be found, to her immense relief, but the feeling of being watched doesn’t subside.

She can’t stay awake any longer. Ginny’s already asleep so the place is dark and quiet and the second her head hits the pillow she’s out like a light. Too tired to be afraid, all she can feel is relief as her eyes fall shut and she slips into unconsciousness.

She’s by the willow tree again, and the relief quickly gives way to dread. There is no golden sunshine, only a dark twilight and moonlight shrouded by heavy clouds. She spins around, but Bella is nowhere to be seen. Yet she _knows_ she’s here, because they are always here together.

“Where are you?” Hermione calls, her voice trembling.

It’s so quiet. There’s no sound outside of her own breathing; no birds, no insects, no breeze. Not even the water from the stream dares make a sound. It’s as if the whole world is holding its breath.

“Boo,”

Hermione whirls around and shrieks when she sees Bella standing directly behind her. She looks as beautiful and innocent as ever, all in white with her loose curls and charming smile. Only now she knows it’s a lie.

“Oh no,” Bella pouts, “You’re afraid of me now,”

“How could I not be?” She feels like her feet are sinking in the earth beneath her, as if the soil is wet and it wants to draw her in.

With a single little skip, Bella jumps into motion and begins circling her with the grace of a predator. Hermione tries to lift her feet, but finds them rooted to the ground. Bella is moving around her with a smirk, like she’s taunting Hermione for being stuck.

“I haven’t done anything bad,” she stops, and places a finger on the center of Hermione’s chest, “Not to you,”

“No, you’ve only been stalking me, manipulating me, _buying_ me,” Hermione spits, glaring at the woman with every ounce of venom she can muster.

A muscle in Bella’s jaw twitches and her eyes grow darker, a glimpse at her true nature. Then it’s gone, replaced with a serene smile, “I’m only helping you,”

“ _Why?”_

_What have I done to deserve this? To deserve you?_

Bella’s brow twitches as if to say, _well, isn’t it obvious?_ “Because you’re mine,” she says simply.

“I don’t belong to anyone, Bella, least of all you,”

Bella doesn’t like that. The dark expression is back, her mouth twisting into a sneer. She grabs Hermione by the hair and moves forward so she envelops her vision. All she can see is pristine moonlight and cascading darkness. She can smell her again; pine and roses.

“You’ve been promised to me since before you were born. I’m tired of waiting,”

She moves closer, until her mouth is sliding across her neck. The action sends shocks straight to her core, and her hips twitch into the woman. Bella clutches them and holds them against her own.

“Bella, no,” Hermione whispers, “I don’t want you,”

Bella nips at her and she gasps. Her hips jerk again and Bella hums into her ear, “I can hear your heart. You can’t lie to me, darling. I know you want me,”

Hermione lifts her heavy arms and pushes weakly at her. Bella steps away to glare at her like a petulant child.

“Why are you fighting me?” She snaps.

“You’re _evil._ I can feel it,”

Bella lifts her chin and purses her full red lips, “That’s the only way to survive in this world. Nothing can harm you if you’re the thing that goes bump in the night,”

The statement is the closest Bella has come to revealing anything personal about herself. She’s protecting herself from something, it seems.

“What are you afraid of?” Hermione asks.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” She circles Hermione again, stopping behind her to slide a hand around her waist. Her other hand threads through her hair and pulls her head back so she’s looking at the stars above them. She can’t make out any constellations in this strange world, but Bella’s mouth is at her throat again and nothing else matters.

“What is your obsession with my neck?” Hermione wonders aloud.

Bella chuckles and sucks a bruise into the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder, “You’re afraid of me but you haven’t figured out what I am yet? Oh, dear,”

More questions fly to her mind but they abandon her when Bella licks a path up to her earlobe which she nibbles, her warm breath panting into her ear. The hand on her stomach slides lower, her fingers dipping below the waistband of her pants.

A tremor wracks her body but still she tries to jerk away, “Please don’t,”

Bella groans, annoyed, and ceases her descent, “Fine. But I will have you. And you will beg for it,”

When Hermione wakes, it’s still dark outside. She’s panting for air, her body aching for Bella’s hands. She shuts her eyes and her own hands find Bella’s destination. She tugs the blanket over her face to stifle the moans and she works herself over the edge in minutes.

 

* * *

 

Ron doesn’t look at her all day, in any of the classes they spend together. She hopes he’s just embarrassed at being caught together, but she suspects there’s something more to it. She manages to corner him after Snape’s exhausting chemistry lecture, yanking him by the arm and shoving him against the lockers. His eyes are wide and darting around like he’s afraid someone will see them talking.

“What the hell, Ron?” She hisses.

He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and looks at his feet, “What?” He mumbles.

“What do you mean, what? What can’t you look at me?”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, moving his eyes to stare past her head, “Look, Hermione, maybe that was…a mistake. I don’t want to ruin our friendship,”

She drops her hand back to her side and steps away from him. “What are you talking about? _You_ asked me out. You were so happy…”

Her brow furrows and Ron rubs the scruff at his jaw with his hand. He meets her eyes for a moment and his gaze is filled with guilt and…fear?

“Ron, what’s the matter? What happened?” She steps into his space and touches his cheek.

He jerks away from her so fast his head smacks agains the locker behind him. He looks around again, and he’s definitely terrified. “Nothing’s happened, ‘Mione. I just can’t be with you like that, okay?”

He shoves past her and speed-walks down the hallway without sparing her a glance. She narrows her eyes suspiciously at his back. If Bella was behind Lockhart, she has to be behind this as well. _You’re mine,_ she said.

She doesn’t have time to dwell on this. She has a debate against another school this evening and she promised the team she’d meet up with them in the theater an hour before it begins to go over everything.

She’s the last to arrive, Draco, Luna and Neville are there waiting for her. The tables have already been set up on stage, and her team has their notes strewn about. Draco stands when he sees her enter, and before she reaches them he meets her halfway across the room. He grasps her elbow and lowers his head so only she can hear his words.

“I have to tell you something,” he whispers, “I know you’ve met her. Bella. You have to stay away from her,”

Hermione’s eyes widen and she searches Draco’s for more information, “How? She shows up in my dreams,”

His eyes flick behind her, similarly to how Ron’s had, “I…I don’t know, but just…be careful. Don’t believe anything she says,”

“How do you know about her, Draco?”

He’s pulling away, shaking his head, but she needs answers. She grabs his hand, “Draco, please. You’re the only other person who knows she’s real. I feel like I’m going crazy,”

“Look,” he hisses, “I can’t tell you too much or she’ll know. I just had to warn you..you’re innocent, you don’t deserve what she’ll do to you. That’s all I can say, okay?”

He spins on his heel, walking back up the isle and onto the stage. She follows him and tries to put the conversation out of her mind. Real or not, she won’t let Bella interfere with her life like this. Her team has won every debate since she joined the team two years ago, and she’s not going to let that reign end tonight.

It’s an easy enough topic. Hogwarts is arguing against the death penalty and Durmstrang is arguing in favor of it. Hermione has been working on the closing argument for the last week and a half during her down time at work. Draco always comes through on the opening, and Neville and Luna are surprisingly well spoken on stage after enough rehearsal. The win is obvious even before it’s announced.

She goes straight to work after the victory after Draco leaves in a hurry, making it obvious he has no intention of giving her any more information. She refuses to let Bella’s money change her life. She’ll keep her job until she can find her way out of this mess.

She’s working a closing shift since she’s coming in later than usual after the debate. Cedric has the night off for once, so it’s just one of the older guys she hardly knows working the bar. It’s one of the nights she wishes was busier so she could distract herself, but it seems to drag on endlessly.

A couple hours before her shift ends, the boys from the Durmstrang team come in. She keeps an eye on them but they don’t seem to notice her. The make a beeline for the bar and order a round of shots.

She doubts all of them are 18, but they’re all sporting facial hair to varying degrees and they’re quite large so it’s not surprising the bartender doesn’t bother checking their ID’s. The four of them are loud, disruptive to the typically laid back vibe of the place. She has to bite her tongue to keep from saying anything, figuring confronting four guys twice her size that she just beat in a debate wouldn’t be the wisest decision.

She checks her phone to see if Ron responded to any of her earlier texts. He hasn’t and her phone battery is at 2% after her long day. She sighs, and when she glances up she sees one of the boys looking right at her. When she meets his eyes, he nudges his buddy and then the four of them are glancing in her direction.

She lowers her gaze back to her book and ignores them. To her relief, they don’t bother her for the last hour. Though they certainly consume their weight in alcohol, growing more obnoxious in the span of the hour. She closes the register and gives her coworker a little wave so he knows she’s leaving for the night.

Then, she’s out in the cool air and breathing it in deeply. The day is finally over. She walks home on aching feet, sticking close to the streetlights like she usually does. Maybe if she wasn’t so exhausted she would’ve heard them behind her. Maybe she would’ve had a chance.

“Hey, Hermione right?” A voice says.

She whirls around to see two of the boys standing right behind her. Her heart starts racing, and she’s afraid and she’s _sick_ of being afraid. Isn’t it enough that some mysterious supernatural entity is after her?

“Yeah…Edward, right? And…hello, John,”

She straightens her posture and raises her chin. She won’t let them know they’re scaring her. She feels for the pocketknife she carries with her to and from work, and grasps it hard enough in her pocket to hurt.

“We just wanted to congratulate you on your win today,” Edward says, “Why didn’t you join us for a drink back there?”

“I was working,” she says. John takes a step closer, and she instinctively steps back only to bump into something. She whirls around, and the other two guys are behind her. Shit. She looks around but it’s two in the morning and the streets are deserted.

“Why don’t you come back to our hotel with us and we’ll have that celebratory drink? It’s kind of a tradition of ours to have a drink with our competitors once it’s all over,” The boy says. This one’s name she can’t quite remember. It’s something generic, something with an R.

Her stomach is churning, her brain is racing trying to figure out what to do. The second one of them grabs her, she’s going to fight like hell. Right now, she can’t bring herself to make that first move.

“Oh!” He says loudly, making her jump, “How rude of me. My name’s Richard, and this is Bo,”

Richard holds out her hand. She knows nothing good will come of taking it. She just holds eye contact with him instead, praying they’ll get the hint and back down.

“C’mon, don’t be rude, Hermione,” Bo says. Was he getting closer? “Come back with us,”

She’s had enough. She pulls out her knife and pops it open, pointing it at Richard, the one closest to her, “None of you come any closer,”

Edward laughs, his voice much closer behind her now. She spins back around to face him and he holds his hands up.

“Woah, woah, woah, lets calm down, alright?” Edward says, and she can smell the bourbon on his breath.

She screams when arms encircle her from behind. Richard is laughing in her ear, until she twists her arm and stabs him in the forearm. He yells, releasing her, and she yanks her knife free and runs as fast as she can.

She only makes it about five steps before Bo tackles her.

Her head smacks against the stone ground and her ankle twists painfully as Bo forces himself on top of her, pinning her down. She screams as loud as she can until he covers her mouth with his hand. She tries to stab him, too, but he grabs her wrist and slams it against the ground, again and again until she can’t hold onto it anymore.

She bites his hand, and the second he lets her go she screams again, only this time she screams _for someone._

_“Bella! Bella! Help me!”_

“Who the fuck is Bella?” John asks, looming over her. They’re all around her now, there’s no way she’ll get away.

“You bitch,” Richard says, “She fucking stabbed me,”

“She bit me,” Bo growls, pressing his forearm into her throat. She can’t speak, can’t breathe, and she can’t die with this man’s flushed, angry face staring down at her as the last thing she sees.

Then, before she can understand what’s happening, two pale hands cup Bo’s face and _twist._ His neck breaks with a sickening crack, and he collapses on Hermione.

Everything happens very fast after that. The boys take off in different directions, but a dark shape moves so fast that none of them stand a chance at escaping. First, the silhouette rushes at John. Hermione hears a scream as the man is twisted at the waist, almost all the way around until his spine cracks. Hermione shoves Bo’s body off of her and crawls to the brick building closest to her. She wraps her arms around her legs and watches the figure zip to Richard. His head is craned back and the dark shape goes for his throat, biting down and yanking back, blood and muscle flying out. He makes a terrible gurgling sound as he drops to the ground, blood spurting out in pulses.

Edward is last. The largest of them all is also the slowest. He’s made it halfway down the street, and he doesn’t stand a chance. The shadow jumps on him, wraps itself around him and squeezes. He screams and crumples and it tears into him like an animal.

Hermione can’t watch anymore. She shuts her eyes and focuses only on the sound of her own shuddering breaths. _In and out. In and out._

“Hermione? Darling, it’s alright. You’re safe now,”

Bella. It’s Bella’s voice. She’s hearing her voice in real life and if she opens her eyes she’ll see her, finally up close and genuinely tangible. It’s equally exhilarating as it is petrifying,

“Hermione, it’s me. I won’t hurt you. Open your eyes,”

Her voice is so sweet, so enticing. She can smell the pine and roses, but she can smell something else too. Something coppery, metallic. Blood.

Slowly, she opens her eyes. And there she is, before her at last, staring at her with those lovely hypnotic eyes and that little smile. There’s blood smeared across her face, covering her neck and her dress and her hands up to her elbows. She’s crouching and tilting her head, looking absurdly innocent for someone that’s soaked in the blood of the dead men littering the ground around them.

“Oh my god,” Hermione whispers.

“Not quite,” Bella says. She grins, revealing a pair of elongated, blood soaked fangs, “My name is Bellatrix Cassiopeia Black. I’ve been looking for you for 150 years, Hermione Granger. I really can’t tell you how nice it is to finally meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from a Pablo Neruda poem. Lyrics at the beginning are from The Stranger by Lord Huron.


	2. The Hierophant

Hermione is pretty sure she’s in shock. She crawls away from the vampire, trying to get to her feet only to cry out when she puts pressure on her ankle. Bella- _Bellatrix_ scoops her up, carrying her bridal style the remaining few blocks back to school. Hermione fights her at first but the grip, while gentle, is iron and inescapable. She gives up and slumps against her chest. She slings a reluctant arm around Bella’s shoulder’s to make the position more comfortable. The blood is soaking from Bellatrix through Hermione’s clothes, and it’s a miracle they make it back to her room without being seen. Even more miraculously is Ginny’s away game, ensuring she has the room to herself for the night.

Bella stops at the doorway and gives Hermione an embarrassed look. Hermione isn’t in any state to understand why she’s stopped.

“I…need you to invite me in,”

On some level she wants to laugh, poke fun at the woman’s embarrassment, but she’s tired and traumatized, and all she can manage is a soft, “come in, then,”

Bellatrix sits her down on the bed and disappears into her bathroom, the sound of running water starting a moment later. Hermione hasn’t moved an inch, just staring at the bathroom door until Bella returns. She kneels in front of her and starts taking off Hermione’s shoes. She hisses when she touches her injured ankle and Bella freezes, looking up at her.

“I think it’s broken,” Bellatrix says, “It’s swollen, but I have to take it off. It’s going to hurt,”

Hermione sniffles and nods. Bella works it off as gently as she can and Hermione screws her eyes shut and huffs through the pain. Once it’s off, Bellatrix reaches for the waistband of her jeans. Hermione grabs her hand, finally finding her voice.

“What are you doing?”

Bellatrix gives her a little smirk, “Don’t worry, I told you I wouldn’t touch you until you beg me for it. We just need to get this blood off,”

Hermione looks past her at the bathroom, “…we? Who’s…going first?”

Bellatrix doesn’t answer her, picking her up again and carrying her into the bathroom where she places her down next to the counter. Bellatrix turns around and sweeps her hair to the side, glancing at her over her shoulder.

“Untie me?” She asks.

Hermione swallows, exhales, and does as she’s told with shaky fingers. Her hands are trembling so bad it takes her an embarrassingly long time to undo the ties of the corset. When she’s done, Bella shimmies out of her dress and turns to face her.

Hermione’s mind goes completely and utterly blank. She can’t form a coherent thought outside of how breathtaking and _scary_ Bellatrix is. She’s lethal, lithe, flawless, a goddess of night bared before her. It’s as if she’s broken out of a marble prison to find her, reveal herself to her. Her eyes skirt modestly over her full breasts, not without noticing the hardened, pink tips, up her blood soaked neck and smirking mouth.

“Your turn,” Bellatrix says.

Hermione can’t let Bellatrix see her, especially not now that she’s been made to feel wholly inadequate. The woman’s obsession with her seems even more ridiculous now. She just doesn’t measure up. Then there’s the fact that she’s incredibly scared of her, that she doesn’t know who this person is in the slightest. She may be numb from the events of the night but she knows that much.

She also knows that she has blood smeared across the side of her body where Bella held her, and a broken ankle that she can’t support on her own.

Hermione yanks open a drawer and pulls out a black elastic headband. She presses it into Bella’s hand and gives her a pleading look.

Bellatrix returns the look with an exasperated one of her own.

“If this were a dream you’d let me see you,” Bella complains.

Hermione clears her throat and forces herself to appear more confident than she feels, “Well, it isn’t. You’re real, and you’re a murderer, so forgive me if I don’t feel comfortable with you…seeing me,”

Bellatrix rolls her eyes and pulls the headband over her head to cover her eyes with it.

“I only murdered them because you needed me to,” Bellatrix grumbles, “and this is the thanks I get,”

The steam from the running water filling the bathroom along with the blindfold embolden Hermione to strip down and hop over to the shower. She loses her balance when she pulls the curtain back, but Bellatrix is there to steady her.

She squeaks in surprise, but Bellatrix’s blindfold is still in place, “Hey, can you see through that thing?”

“ _No,_ but my other senses are very sharp. I can smell you, I could hear your little gasp when you lost your balance. Now, I’m going to lift you in, alright?”

Hermione opens her mouth to respond, but Bella grabs her shoulders and lifts her with ease into the tub and right under the hot water. Hermione hisses when the water runs over her bruised and sore skin, but Bella’s cool hand is unwavering on her arm, holding her steady. She relaxes as she grows used to the heat, letting it soothe her wounds. It’s splashing onto Bella too, and Hermione is mesmerized at the sight of the blood diluting and running in rivulets down her skin, turning the water at their feet pink.

She reaches behind Bella for the soap, her arm inadvertently brushing against her bare hip. She flushes deeply, reluctant to pull away from the cool, soft flesh. Everything about this woman is seductive, but her senses tell her it’s a trap laid by the most dangerous predator to walk the earth. Of course she feels drawn to her, everything she saw today proved Bellatrix was made to lure and kill.

Bella’s hand falls to her side when Hermione uses her shoulder to steady herself. She washes the sweat and blood off of herself, feeling more at ease the more the day falls from her skin and the longer Bella stands, patiently waiting for her to finish. The spray from the water weighs Bella’s hair down, and she looks even more beautiful in her complete vulnerability.

 _Monster,_ Hermione reminds herself, _Killer._

Hermione is forced to shut her eyes when she washes her hair, and her heart thunders in her ears the second Bellatrix is no longer in her sight. She expects her to be up to something sinister the moment she turns away, but then she’s opening her eyes and Bella’s still standing there still as a statue.

“Your turn,” Hermione whispers.

“I’ll need your help if you want me to keep the blindfold on,” Bellatrix says, her lips twitching.

“I’ll get out, then you can take it off,” Hermione looks at the edge of the tub and contemplates how to get out with the use of one foot.

“You’re not going anywhere with that ankle,” Bellatrix says, and then she’s grabbing Hermione’s arms and brushing past her to flip their positions. Hermione slips right back into shock when Bellatrix’s bare, wet body glances against hers, and she loses her balance again. The vampire catches her at the elbow and tsks at her.

“That’s exactly why I’m in here. The last thing we need is you slipping and cracking your head open,” Bellatrix says, running Hermione’s soap over her body.

She can’t help it. She’s absolutely mesmerized by Bellatrix’s actions. She knows she’s doing it on purpose-it is not practical for her to be lathering herself up so slowly. Her breasts are certainly clean enough, but she continues to caress herself, her chest rising and falling in time with Hermione’s.

When Bellatrix is done torturing her, she wraps Hermione up in a robe and borrows one of her sweatshirts and a pair of underwear. She helps her to bed and tucks her in, Hermione quietly watching her the entire time, trying to figure out what her motives are.

Bellatrix sits on the bed next to her, looking down at her.

“I have a lot of questions,” Hermione says, her voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Bellatrix shuffles until she’s lying beside her. She’s almost glowing in the moonlight, and her dark brows are furrowed over a concerned gaze and Hermione just can’t figure out why she cares about her at all.

“Sleep first,” Bellatrix whispers, “I’ll tell you what you want to know after you’ve rested,”

“You’ll stay?” Hermione’s eyes slip shut. She’s too delirious to register what she’s saying, to understand that she wants Bella to watch over her.

“I will,” Bella strokes her hair, “I’ll be right here,”

Hermione falls into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

She wakes before dawn, the throbbing of her ankle outweighing her exhaustion. Bella is laying across from her still just as she promised, and Hermione is still a little startled to see her there. She’s shifted closer in her sleep, her hands curled around Bella’s arm and their legs tangled together. Bella’s eyes are unblinking on her face as Hermione gently detaches herself, rolling onto her side to escape the intensity of her stare.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Hermione asks.

Bellatrix is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “Yes,”

“You didn’t want to join me in my dreams tonight?” Hermione asks sarcastically.

“I figured you needed some…space,”

Hermione huffs out a short laugh that quickly turns into a hiss of pain when she moves her ankle.

“You should let me take care of that,” Bellatrix says, “We don’t want anyone to know you were there when they were…”

“Brutally murdered?” Hermione asks, “How would you _take care of it?”_

“You need to have some of my blood. It will only take a little, and you’ll be good as new,”

Hermione shudders, shooting her a look, “Are you serious?” Bellatrix just stares at her, and Hermione knows she’s not going to drop it, “I mean, I assume there’s side affects to something like that. You have to be completely honest with me before I even consider it,”

Bellatrix’s gaze flicks away and she sighs, then returns her eyes to Hermione, “You’d be taking a hit from my life source. You won’t just be healed, you’ll feel incredible as long as it’s in your system. You’ll feel very connected to me, and it’ll heighten anything you already feel, lowing your…inhibitions. So, if you really hate me you might try to kill me. If you really like me, you might try to…”

“I get it,” Hermione says with a frown, “Look, I’m not even sure how I feel about you. Instinctually I feel this need to get away from you. But I’d be lying if I said that’s all there is,”

Bellatrix continues to study her, letting her talk through a decision.

“If I do this you have to promise not to…take advantage of me while I’m on it, okay?”

Bellatrix smirks and gives her a single nod of confirmation.

“How long will it be in my system?”

“Every human metabolizes it at a different pace. It could take anywhere from 24 to 48 hours for it to be completely out,” Bellatrix sits up so she’s sitting crosslegged and staring down at her. Hermione sits up to, resting back against the headboard and keeping her injured ankle stretched out in front of her.

Bellatrix moves quickly, straddling Hermione’s hips and bracing her hands against her shoulders. Hermione stiffens at the proximity, thinking of the way these same arms and legs had wrapped around that man and crushed him to death not hours before. Yet here she is, gentle and yielding, not an ounce of force in her touch. Hermione slides her hands up Bella’s bare thighs and they’re soft and relaxed. She narrows her eyes at the woman, who only quirks an eyebrow.

Bellatrix pulls back her sleeve and raises her wrist to her mouth, her fangs puncturing the skin with ease, blood quickly rising to the surface. She’s considerate enough to cup her free hand beneath it so she doesn’t spill on Hermione’s clean robe. She holds it out, offering it to her. There’s a glimmer of excitement in her eyes that Hermione doesn’t trust.

“You _promise_ not to take advantage of me?”

“Yes,” Bellatrix rolls her eyes, “I will not defile you, darling. Not without your sober and enthusiastic consent,”

“I don’t trust you,” Hermione says, taking the offered wrist anyways.

“I know,” Bellatrix gasps when the younger girl presses an open mouth to her bleeding wound, “Let me prove that you can,”

Her voice hitches on the last word. Hermione moans the second the blood touches her tongue. It tastes metallic, yes but it sends every nerve ending in her body on edge and shockwaves straight to her core. This powerful, beautiful creature has opened a vein and provided her open access to the very essence of her, and she feels more connected to her in that moment than she ever has to another person in her entire life. She can feel her every intention and all of her feelings towards Hermione and it feels- _fuck-_ it feels electrifying, consuming, like she’ll be torn in two by the force of it. Bellatrix _wants_ her, and Hermione wants her back, so badly she can feel herself throbbing, dripping, grinding down and sucking harder as the heat of her devotion pours down her wanting throat.

“Enough,” Bellatrix says, her voice quivering, “That’s enough, love,”

She tugs Hermione’s head away by her hair and the girl can’t help the snarl that tears its way from her throat. She meets Bellatrix’s eyes and seems to remember herself, blinking rapidly and trying to steady herself.

“Breathe with me,” Bellatrix says with forced patience, “Come on, in and out, nice and slow…that’s it,”

Bellatrix casually leans forward and licks the remaining blood off of Hermione’s chin, then rolls off of her and settles into her previous position.

Hermione’s heart is still thundering in her ears and she’s painfully turned on. She continues to breathe, and focuses on the feeling of the pain in her ankle alleviating as it heals. The receding pain is enough to settle her further, and she slides back down under the covers.

“Fuck,” Hermione says, unable to find another word to convey what she’s experiencing.

Bellatrix chuckles, “You can take care of that if you’d like. Since I promised not to,”

For a second Hermione doesn’t know what she means-then it hits her. “Ugh, _no_ I am not…doing that with you here,” she whispers, scandalized.

She can hear the smirk in Bellatrix’s voice when she says, “Fine, sleep through it then. It won’t be any better by sunrise,”

Hermione rolls on her side, away from the taunting, overconfident woman. She is stubborn enough to fall asleep despite the throbbing between her legs. She refuses to bend to such primitive wants. The relief that comes from her bruises and sore muscles having healed is enough for her tiredness to win out, and she falls back to sleep with the glorious taste of Bellatrix’s blood lingering in her mouth.

* * *

Bellatrix’s favorite time to lure girls away from prying eyes is during lively, rowdy parties. The 20s in New York had no shortage of parties like this, humans drinking far past their fill and abandoning their inhibitions. She targets the girls who are buzzed but not stumbling drunk after a mishap that involved a girl vomiting on her favorite dress.

She’s had her eye on a girl there with her group of friends. She’s not the prettiest girl at the party, no, but her thick brown hair bounces with every move she makes, and her dark eyes glimmer in the dim light of the speakeasy. Her white dress is modest compared to the chosen outfits of her peers, and she’s quieter from the rest.

She’s exactly Bellatrix’s type.

She catches her as she’s leaving the loo, rummaging through her bag with a cigarette between her teeth. Bellatrix steps in front of her and the girl stops a breath away from colliding with her. The girl looks up at her uncertainly, sizing her up. First impressions are crucial. Bellatrix has learned if she doesn’t play her cards right, her prey will recognize her for the predator she is.

“Need a light?” Bellatrix says easily, giving her a friendly smile.

The girl nods, a small, relieved smile tugging at her red tinted lips. Bellatrix retrieves her heavy, engraved silver lighter that she purchased specifically for these situations and strikes it to life, holding it steady between them. The girl leans forward, holding Bellatrix’s eyes. The second those brown eyes are illuminated by the light of the flame, Bellatrix tugs her under her thrall. She freezes, the edge of her cigarette burning as she holds it too long in the flame.

Bellatrix snatches it out of her mouth and stomps it out beneath her heel. She cups the girl’s cheek and leans in close, “What’s your name?”

“Anna,” The girl answers, her face settling into an open, vacant expression as she falls completely under the vampire’s influence.

“Follow me upstairs, Anna,” Bellatrix turns and walks towards the exit without bothering to check if Anna obeys. She’s confident enough in her abilities at this point in her life. She only glances at the girl’s friends to ensure they don’t notice her departure before slipping out the back door, into the alley behind the bar.

There’s a couple making out against the wall in the alley that pay her no mind as she approaches. She places a hand on the man’s shoulder and he whirls around in surprise. The woman opens her mouth to scream but Bellatrix silences her with a single look. She pulls them both under her influence, and holding the thrall of three is no easy feat. The couple’s inebriation is what makes it doable.

“Leave,” Bellatrix commands.

The couple listens, holding onto each other as they run away from her. When Bellatrix turns around, Anna is waiting patiently with her back resting against the opposite wall. Bellatrix smiles at her obedience as she approaches. Anna gives her a warm smile in return, and Bellatrix’s stomach flutters at the possibilities in the girl’s eyes.

_Could she be the one?_

Bellatrix cups Anna’s face and tilts it to the side, lowing her mouth to her neck. She hopes when her lips meet flesh that she’ll ignite, feel the rush of emotion she’s been longing for. Instead she feels only warm skin and rushing blood, the desire to bite down the only thing rising inside of her.

Bellatrix pulls back and stares. Anna’s eyes are empty but happy. Bellatrix gives her a rough shake, as if she expects to dislodge some magic spark to awaken something in herself. Anna doesn’t react, and Bellatrix growls, surging forward to tear into her neck.

Her blood is nothing special but she’s _hungry,_ and she gulps it down with vigor. The girl is lost to her completely now, not struggling in the slightest and Bellatrix bites down again and again. She’s rougher than she normally is; she’s angry at herself for letting herself hope that she’s found the one at last for even a second. The disappointment hits her harder every time. She has no idea when she’ll find the prophesied lover, and when her life has no expiration date, it could be centuries before she finds her. ‘

She can’t stand the thought of her existence continuing this way for that much longer. She’s going mad with boredom. The only thing that’s any fun anymore is killing, and she’s sure even that will grow tiresome eventually.

Narcissa and Andromeda don’t want to travel the world with her anymore, either, leaving her entirely alone. They’ve both found mates and prefer to spend their time with them, looking forward to spending eternity in love. Bellatrix will never admit it to them, but she envies it. She didn’t care about the prophesy at first, only caring about hunting, feeding and fucking for decades, but watching her sisters fall in love made something twist inside her.

She spends more time than she wants to admit wondering what her future lover will be like. What kind of person would catch her attention, turn the life she’s been living on its head and change her?

She’s been alive a long time, she’s been with a lot of people, but no one holds her interest for long. She sees the way? Narcissa looks at Lucius, the way Andromeda looks at Ted, and she can’t seem to fathom having something like that for herself.

Blood is all she lives for now. It runs down her chin as it fills her mouth faster than she can gulp it down. The girl is close to death, and she shoves weakly at Bellatrix’s shoulders. They tend to come out from beneath her thrall as they approach oblivion, their bodies natural survival instinct overpowering her influence.

Bellatrix pulls back to laugh at the pathetic attempt. Even a strong human in their prime, fighting her with everything they have wouldn’t stand a chance against her at her weakest. Anna’s eyes are wild with fear now, and Bellatrix clamps a hand over her mouth before returning to the shredded neck.

She’s full enough now, and she’s tired of the girl. She opens her mouth wide and tears into her viciously. She feels her throat vibrate as she attempts to scream, but noting makes it out. Bellatrix pulls back, ripping out muscle and tissue and spitting it on the ground.

The girl slumps lifelessly against her and Bellatrix steps back, letting her crumple to the ground. She stairs at the desecrated body that only moments before lived, breathed, laughed and loved. The vampire stumbles back until she bumps into the opposite wall. She slides down, staring helplessly at her bloodied hands. She’s alone again, and she’s so _sick_ of it. To her disgust, she finds hot tears sliding down her cool cheeks and shuddering breaths wrack her body. Her disgust with herself grows as the emotions overtake her. She despises falling apart in such a pathetically _human_ way, even if there’s no one around to witness it. Every show of weakness is a stain on her eternity that she never lets herself forget.

She just wants to _feel_ something other than anger, sadness or crippling loneliness. Why is that so much to ask?

* * *

“I have a lot of questions,” Hermione says to Bellatrix’s unconscious face, after an hour of fretful sleep. 

Bellatrix cracks open one eye, then the other. She blinks sleepily, and her tense expression melts into one of inexplicable relief “What?” She rasps.

“Can you turn into a raven?”

Bellatrix’s eyes flick up and down her face, “That’s your first question?” Hermione stares seriously at her and Bellatrix sighs, “ _Yes,_ I can turn into a raven,”

“How old are you?”

“Physically? About 22, but I was born in 1850,”

Hermione blinks, absorbing this.“How were you turned?”

“I wasn’t turned. I’m a pure-blood from a very, _very_ old family, so I was born like this. I grew normally, but pure-bloods are designed to stop aging when they reach their prime,”

Hermione’s head is swimming with questions, and every time Bellatrix answers one a dozen more rise to the surface. She forces herself to stick with her original questions and not stray off track.

“How are you able to control my dreams? Are you…really there with me?”

Bellatrix raises a hand to her face and gently runs a finger down her jaw. “I’m as there as you are. As for the how, it’s a talent of mine. A specialty. Specialties are fairly common amongst pure-bloods, though pure-bloods themselves are a rare, dying breed. I am gifted with the ability to walk in people’s dreams and anything I do to them will affect them in reality. If I kill them, they’ll die. If I drive them mad, they really lose their minds. If I want to, I don’t know,” Bella’s hand trails lower, running between her breasts. Her voice drops to a whisper, “ _Fuck_ them, I can really make them come,”

Goosebumps erupt across Hermione’s skin. When Bellatrix touches her she feels it _everywhere_.Hermione grabs the wandering hand before it can distract her any further.

“Why do you want me?” Hermione forces out, “I’m nothing special,”

Bellatrix looks offended on her behalf, “I’m not going to convince you of how wrong you are. You’re special _to me,”_

Hermione looks helplessly at her, still unable to comprehend Bella’s interest in her. The vampire sighs and takes pity on her.

“Listen,” she elaborates, “when I was a child I met a seer who told me that one day I would meet someone who would make me…feel things. Someone who would change my life. It was all very vague, but as the years went by I found myself longing for it more and more. There’s only so much joy I can reap from killing and meaningless sex. I wanted more. I wanted…you,”

Hermione notices their fingers have tangled together, the heat of her palm warming the ice of Bella’s, “What makes you think I’m who the seer spoke of?”

“I don’t think,” Bella snaps, “I know. I knew the moment I laid eyes on you in that musty little bookstore,” she shifts so she’s straddling her once again, hands on either side of her face and eyes inches from her own, “ _these eyes,_ right here, found me and woke me up. It’s like I’ve been wandering through life asleep, an endless dream, then you woke me up like morning sunlight on my face,”

Hermione’s chest heaves with every breath, the sensation of Bellatrix pressed against her here, in the flesh, is almost too much to bare. She can feel the heat of her core pressing into her stomach and her body vibrates in response, aching to be closer.

 _It’s the blood,_ she thinks, _this isn’t me._

“ _Why,_ though? Why am I the one for you?” Hermione breathes, any higher volume feeling inappropriate for their proximity.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe we’re soulmates,”

 _She doesn’t have a soul,_ Hermione thinks, but Bellatrix’s eyes are shimmering with emotion, with possessiveness, want, with exhilaration. No one has _ever_ looked at her with such blatant, black desire. It’s like she wants to completely devour her, and something inside Hermione aches to let her. The look tugs at something inside of her, and she feels herself bending to the will of the blood running through her veins.

The proximity is too much and Hermione can’t resist her desires any longer. She bucks her hips up into her and lifts her hands to plunge them into thick, heavy curls to drag her face closer. Hermione moves her head to the side and exposes her neck.

“Granger,” Bellatrix growls, “You’re not making it easy for me to keep my promise,”

Hermione whines and runs her hands down Bellatrix’s body until she’s grasping at her hips, tugging her closer. Bellatrix buries her face into her neck and sucks on the skin there, her fangs scraping sharply against her oversensitive skin.

“I can’t stop,” Hermione sighs. Every touch lights her nerve endings on fire, but her stomach is in knots at the wrongness of it. Bellatrix’s labored breathing mirrors her own, and the woman’s cold hands slide up her body.

“You feel so good,” Bellatrix says, sounding pained, “Touching someone has never felt this way for me before,”

Hermione shifts so Bellatrix is lying between her legs. She’s not wearing anything but her cotton robe, and with her legs spread she can feel the shock of Bellatrix’s cold body pressing into her throbbing heat, right where she needs her. Hermione’s breathy little pants are shameless, her senses abandoning her as her mind swims with unadulterated want. The feeling of inherent wrongness is completely overshadowed as Bellatrix grinds into her. She feels like she’s burning up even with the cool body against her.

Bellatrix’s weight disappears abruptly and Hermione cries out in despair. She sits up to see Bellatrix on the other side of the room with her arms curled around herself and a frown on her face.

“Come back,” Hermione says. Bellatrix shakes her head and glowers at her.

“You hate me, remember? You’re supposed to be terrified right now,” Bellatrix’s voice is tight, quiet, riddled with emotion.

“I know,” Hermione gets up and puts her robe tighter around her, “I know, but I cant feel any of that right now. My mind feels so clouded,”

“It’s the blood. Would you like me to leave?” Bellatrix asks.

“ _No,”_ Hermione says, rushing forward so she’s close once again. Bellatrix puts a hand on her chest, just beneath her neck to stop her from coming any closer.

“Don’t” Bellatrix says, pushing her so she stumbles back a step, “I promised you I wouldn’t touch you like this,”

Tears jump to Hermione’s eyes, and she knows she’s being ridiculous but she can’t find it in herself to care. “Please,” she begs, “I’ve never felt like this before. I feel like I’ll…like I’ll die if I don’t…don’t—”

 _…come._ Hermione thinks, too embarrassed to say it out loud with the way Bellatrix is looking at her. It’s obvious what she means, and Bellatrix blows a curl out of her face and raises her eyes to the celling.

“Maybe we can compromise,” Bellatrix says, returning her gaze to Hermione. Hermione nods enthusiastically, willing to agree to just about anything at the moment. “Go lay back down,” The woman commands.

Hermione listens, laying with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. She squeezes her thighs together, desperate for friction.

Bellatrix takes a deep breath, then says, “Spread your legs,”

Hermione knows that under any other circumstances she would never do something like this, but she’s not quite herself at the moment. A piece of Bellatrix is inside of her at the moment, and it’s awakening something inside of her she never knew was there. There’s something dark inside of her that wants nothing more than to obey and please. So she does as she’s told, the cold air of the room ghosting across her as she exposes herself to the vampire.

She hears Bellatrix’s sharp intake of air, and her own breathing rises. She can feel Bellatrix’s eyes on her and Hermione squirms as she waits for her next instruction.

“Open your robe,” Bellatrix says, “And touch your breasts,”

Hermione complies with trembling hands. This is the first time anyone will see her completely naked, and the circumstances are hardly what she ever imagined the first experience would be like. She’s too turned on to be shy, and she groans loudly when she finally feels pressure against her hardened nipples. She rubs her fingers against them, pinching them and arching into her hands.

“Move one hand lower, _yes,_ right there Hermione. Does that feel good?”

Hermione lets out a relieved cry as the fingers of her right hand drag through her wetness. Her eyes slam shut. She’s dripping, fluids slick on the inside of her thighs. Her hips jerk violently when her fingertips rub against her swollen clit.

“Answer me,” Bellatrix snaps.

“ _Yes,”_ Hermione moans.

The air around her is disrupted and her eyes fly open to see Bellatrix crouching at the edge of the bed, between her legs, watching her with black eyes.

“Fuck yourself now, Hermione. Just one finger, nice and slow,” Hermione’s eyes flutter at the words, “Keep your eyes on _me,”_

She forces herself to keep her gaze locked with the vampire’s as she pushes one finger inside of herself. Her mouth falls open and she feels a new wave of moisture leak out around the digit, making it easy to slide it out and back in. Bellatrix’s eyes move from her face to watch her hand. A flush spreads from her face down to her chest at the scrutinization she’s under, but it feels too good to stop now.

“ _Bella,”_ she moans, her hips jerking against her hand as she nears the edge, “I can’t hold on,”

It’s almost too much to handle when she feels the shock of Bellatrix’s hands on her thighs, pushing them farther apart.

 _“Shh,”_ Bellatrix says, and Hermione can feel her breath on her, “It’s alright. You’ll feel better when you’re done. Add another finger,”

“ _Ahh_ ,” Hermione whimpers as she does as she’s told. The second finger stretches her the perfect amount, and she lifts her hips to take it in deeper.

Hermione pumps her fingers until she feels herself tightening around them. She pulls them out and rubs wet, sloppy circles over her clit. Her other hand reaches blindly for Bellatrix, and the woman grabs the hand and laces their fingers, “Come now,” Bellatrix commands, and Hermione’s body obeys.

Her high pitched moan pierces the room and her vision blurs with tears. A sob of relief tears through her, but it’s short lived. As soon as she begins to come to her senses a wave of humiliation washes over her. It's like a switch flipped and the fog cleared, leaving her utterly disgusted at herself. She sits up and scrambles away from Bella, yanking the robe back around herself. Bellatrix looks like a petulant child, crouched at the end of the bed with a disappointed frown.

“Why did you let me do that?” Hermione asks, her tears of relief turning into tears of anger, “You-you said you wouldn’t—“

Bellatrix moves forward so she’s right in front of her in the blink of an eye. She grabs a fistful of Hermione’s hair and sneers at her, “You didn’t make it easy for me and I didn’t even _touch_ you, don’t be dramatic,”

Hermione shoves her but she doesn’t budge an inch. She slaps her, but it’s like hitting a marble statue and she howls in pain. Bellatrix’s angry face is only heightening her emotions. Her head is still spinning from the most intense orgasm she’s ever had, and she’s still throbbing. The thought makes her sick, that even through this haze of anger and betrayal she still wants the vampire to throw her down and _bury_ herself inside of her until she’s screaming.

“Go away,” Hermione sobs, dissolving into tears. Bellatrix yanks her forward into a hug that borders on painful and pushes her hair back away from her ear.

“No,” Bellatrix hisses, “I’ve spent enough of my life away from you, I won’t spend another _second_ in the darkness,”

“You’ll spend an eternity with someone who hates you?” Hermione cries, fighting uselessly against her.

Bellatrix pulls back and has the nerve to look hurt. Her eyes flick up and down Hermione’s face like she’s trying to read her. Then her eyes settle on hers again, and they’re shimmering.

“Fine,” Bellatrix says. Then she’s gone from her, flinging back the curtains and pushing the window open. In a flurry of black she changes, her body diminishing into a mass of jet black feathers and taking off into the daylight.

Hermione sobs even harder in her absence, the dejected look on Bellatrix’s face burned into her mind.

* * *

 

Hermione stays holed up in her room for hours, curled up under the covers and crying herself dry. Bellatrix’s blood has made her emotions unbearably powerful, and she finds herself rendered completely helpless against them. Bellatrix’s smell still clings to her sheets and it makes it impossible to think of anything else. When she runs out of tears she just stares at the wall, visions of the last 24 hours playing out like a horror movie in her mind.

It’s evening when she hears a knock at her door. She makes sure her robe is tied tight before she trudges to the door to opens it. Harry is standing behind it, eyes wide and frantic. When he sees her, he frowns deeply.

“Bloody hell, Hermione, are you alright? You look dreadful,”

“I-I’m fine, I think I’m just getting a cold or something,” She lies, patting her frizzy hair self-consciously.

Harry brushes past her, not bothering to wait for an invitation. He frowns again at her messy room and gives her a worried look. He rubs at the scar on his neck, an anxious tick he’s had for as long as she’s known him.

“Do you want to get dressed? I have something I need to talk to you about,” he says.

Hermione blushes and begrudgingly agrees, “Give me a few minutes,”

She takes a change of clothes out of the closet and steps into the bathroom so she can change in private. The second she walks in her eyes widen. Her’s and Bellatrix’s blood stained clothes are still strewn about the bathroom floor. She shoves them hurriedly into the shower and flings the curtain shut to conceal them in case Harry asks to use it. She uses a washcloth to wipe up the blood that dripped from Bella’s clothes onto the white tile, and once it’s clean she throws the wet cloth behind the curtain, too. Then, she changes into jeans and a hoodie and yanks a brush through her hair. Brushing it only makes it look even frizzier, so she ties it back.

She washes her face to wake herself up and make it look less like she spent the entire day crying in bed. Once she looks presentable, she wipes her sweaty hands on her jeans and rejoins Harry.

She sits in the computer chair and tries her best to clear her mind and give him her undivided attention.

He takes a deep breath, “Okay. I’m not sure where to begin. Dumbledore wants to talk to you, but he said I could talk to you first and try to explain,”

Hermione’s stomach sinks. She has a bad feeling that whatever he has to say is going to have something to do with Bellatrix, “Explain what? What’s going on, Harry? You’re kind of freaking me out,”

“Sorry. Look, Dumbledore said this won’t surprise you but…he told me that…vampires are real,” his green eyes pierce into her own, “He told me all about them. That they’re evil personified, disguised as humans. That all they care about is killing and doing 'the Devil’s bidding’. He said that a vampire is what killed my parents, not a car accident like I was told,”

He rubs his neck again and something clicks in Hermione’s mind. His scar is two jagged white lines, about two inches long each, like a messy vampire bite. But Harry has had the scar since he was a baby. What kind of monster feeds on a baby?

“It was some extremely old, evil bastard. He got it in his head that _I_ was somehow going to kill him someday, so he came to me when I was a baby. But…God, it just keeps getting crazier, Hermione. Apparently my parents were both apart of this group of vampire hunters called the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore thinks my mum played dead, and when Voldemort, the vampire, bit me she jumped up and drove a stake through his heart,”

“Oh my god, Harry,” Hermione says, covering her mouth in an expression of horror.

“The Order thought he was dead for the last 16 years. They only just found out he’s still alive. Now they’re thinking a stake isn’t good enough to kill a vampire that old, and that’s why he survived. I guess he’s been building his strength all these years, recruiting other vampires to take down the Order,”

“Harry—,” Hermione starts, trying to gather her thoughts, “This is terrible, but what do I have to do with any of this? Why did Dumbledore want to talk to me?”

“Hermione,” Harry sighs, “Dumbledore told me to ask you where were you last night. Tell me the truth,”

Hermione swallows and looks away. Telling him the truth seems absurd, but how can she not after everything he just told her? “I was…I was attacked on my way home from work,”

“By a vampire?” Harry asks loudly, shooting up off the bed.

“No! No, I was attacked by the Durmstrang debate team,”

Harry’s eyes bulge and he sits back down, “Hermione, those guys were found—,”

“Murdered, I know. They were attacking me…and a vampire saved me,”

Harry shakes his head, struggling to rationalize her statement with everything he’s just learned, “Look, we need to tell Dumbledore. If you know anything that could help lead us to Voldemort, you have to tell him,”

“I don’t know _anything_ about that vampire. But if you think it’ll help, I’ll talk to Dumbledore,” Hermione says.

They walk to his office together in silence, the two of them each processing what the other told them. Hermione still has a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Logically, she knows she should be able to trust the people she’s known for the past several years but she can’t shake the image of Bellatrix’s hurt expression and wonder how hurt she’d be if Hermione lended any aide to vampire hunters.

“Miss Granger, Mr. Potter!” Dumbledore exclaims when they enter his office, “Please, have a seat. I’m glad we’ll all be able to speak with everything out in the open,”

They take the two chairs opposite Dumbledore’s desk, and the headmaster gives both of their shoulder’s a comforting squeeze before he rounds his desk and pours them some water from a jug filled with ice. He passes it to them and Hermione drinks it gratefully, not realizing how parched the day of crying made her.

“Now, Miss Granger, I’ll be frank,” Dumbledore begins, scratching at his thick, neatly trimmed beard, “I have a reliable source that spotted you being carried onto school grounds by a vampire several hours before dawn last night,”

Hermione breathes loudly through her nose, “Yes, sir,”

“Is the vampire still on school grounds?” He asks, more serious than she’s seen him.

“No, sir,”

“What can you tell me about her? Any information is valuable. Did she harm you?”

Hermione feels a strange wave of defensiveness rise in her. She sits up a little straighter, a bit offended. Bellatrix has done…a lot to her, but she’s never hurt her, “No,” she tells him, “she didn’t hurt me at all. And I’m sorry, sir, but there’s really not much I can tell you about her. She didn’t tell me anything about herself,”

That’s not true. Bellatrix told her a lot, actually, but she doesn’t like the look Dumbledore is giving her. At this point Bellatrix has been more forthcoming with her than the headmaster ever has been. Bellatrix has been honest about her motives, but she’s still in the dark as to what Dumbledore’s motives may be.

Dumbledore removes his glasses, his blue eyes piercing, searching her own eyes for the truth, “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you Hermione?”

His expression is unreadable, but it makes her skin crawl nonetheless. She steels herself, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, “Of course not, sir,”

“I see,” he says. He moves his gaze behind her and gives a solemn nod.

It’s the last thing she sees before she feels a sharp pain on the back of her head and she crumples to the floor.

* * *

Bellatrix is thirteen again and Narcissa is eight, her specialty already starting to show itself. Bellatrix hasn’t discovered her specialty yet but of course little Cissy, the perfect, angelic overachiever would find it before her. The little shit likes to practice on her, too, specifically while she’s sleeping in the middle of the day

She’ll wake up to find a demonic figure looming over her, it’s face a twisting mass of endless darkness with red eyes glimmering. Bellatrix screams the first 3 times it happens, but the 4th time, she throws a pillow at it.

“Screw you, Cissy, it’s not funny,”

Narcissa drops the illusion, giggling madly at her. Bellatrix leaps out of bed and her little sister takes off, running out of her room and down the hallway. Bellatrix is faster than her and she catches up quickly, tackling her to the ground.

“Daddy!” Narcissa screeches as Bellatrix pins her arms above her head.

“You little brat!” Bellatrix says, “I’m going to drag your disrespectful ass outside next time you try that shit with me!”

Narcissa screeches, and heavy footsteps thundering down the hallway make Bellatrix look up. Cygnus Black relaxes when he sees his daughters having another superficial fight.

“I thought you were killing each other up here,” he says, folding his arms, “Come on now, Bella, let your sister go,”

Bellatrix sneers but does as she’s told. Narcissa runs to their father and presses her face into his sleeve, sobbing.

“Oh, please, she’s faking it!” Bellatrix says, “It’s not fair! _she’s_ the one torturing me with her little magic trick!”

“Narcissa, go to your room while I have a little chat with your sister, all right?”

Narcissa nods tearfully, the performance of the fucking century, and flees to her room. The door to Bellatrix’s right creaks open and Andromeda pokes her head out. She’s rubbing her sleepy eyes and her messy hair rivals Bellatrix’s curls with how wild they look.

“What’s goin’ on?” She mumbles, blinking blearily at her.

“Fuck off, Andy!” Bellatrix says, glaring. Andromeda widens her eyes, rolls them, mutters _“okay then,”_ and retreats back into her room.

Bellatrix sits with her back against the wall and turns her glare to her father, waiting to be chastised. Cygnus heaves a sigh and sits down next to her, pulling her against his side.

“Bella, I know it’s hard to watch your little sister find her specialty before you, but yours will come in time. Everyone finds it at a different pace,”

Bellatrix sniffles, her anger quickly giving way to shame, “What if-what if I don’t have a specialty?”

“Your don’t need a _specialty_ to be special, dear. You’re plenty special on your own!”

“But I could be _stronger,”_ Bella says, wiping furiously at her eyes.

“You want to know a secret?” Cygnus asks, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “Sometimes, the specialties that don’t show until later on are the best ones,”

Bellatrix blinks up at him, “ _Really?”_

Cygnus nods, “Mhm, it’s true. You know, your mother didn’t get hers until she was s _eventeen!_ I got mine when I was ten, and you know your mom’s dream walking is way cooler than my speed. We’re all fast, after all, and I just get to be a little bit faster. How silly is that?”

Bellatrix giggles. She knows he’s downplaying his ability, but she _does_ admire her mom’s specialty. He’s managed to rustle up some excitement out of her sour mood. To Bellatrix, her father’s real specialty is his ability to remain level headed and positive even in her darkest moods.

 

“Now, you have to do your best to keep a good relationship with your sisters. Everything in your life apart from this family is temporary. All the rest will fade with time, but we have to face eternity together. You’ll be terribly lonely without them,”

Bella nods, but before she can respond there’s a tingling at the back of her neck, the telltale signal that Hermione has fallen asleep. Bellatrix shuts her eyes and reluctantly pulls herself from the memory. The willow tree spot is effortless to conjure now, and she waits impatiently for Hermione’s arrival. The girl had better apologize for what she said to her before.

* * *

 

Hermione knows she’s dreaming when she opens her eyes and sees the branches of the willow tree swaying above her head. It’s the dead of night this time, and when she sits up Bellatrix is observing her from several feet away with a blank expression. 

Hermione scrambles to her feet and throws herself at the vampire. She collides with her almost painfully, and Bellatrix remains stiff even as Hermione buries her hands in her hair and sighs gratefully.

“Well, you’ve had quite the change in attitude,” Bellatrix says dryly.

“Bella,” Hermione sighs pulling back to look at her, “I don’t know how much time I have. Something terrible has happened,”

Bellatrix’s expression changes from steely to concerned, “What? Are you hurt?”

“Someone…hit me over the head, I think. The headmaster of my school, he’s apart of a group of vampire hunters called—”

“The Order?” Bellatrix asks, her eyes widening. Hermione nods. “ _Fuck,”_

“They know about you. Someone saw you carrying me and now they think I know more than what I told them-which is true. Bella, I didn’t tell them anything about you, I swear,”

Bellatrix nods slowly, a plan forming behind her eyes, “I’m coming to get you,” 

“Bellatrix, _no,_ I think it’s a trap,” Hermione says, grasping desperately at her face.

“Oh, it’s absolutely a trap. But they don’t know who they’re fucking with,”

Hermione shakes her head, but she can see Bellatrix’s mind is made up, “How will you find me? I don’t know where they’d take me,”

Bellatrix pulls her close and presses cool lips to her forehead, “My blood is still in your system. We’re connected,”

“Be careful,” Hermione whispers, her panic melting at the gentle touch, “But please…he has my friend with him. Please don’t hurt him,”

Bellatrix sighs, “What’s he look like? Don’t tell me it’s the ginger twat,”

Hermione can’t help the laugh that sneaks out of her as she remembers the offended raven, “No, but he and Harry are close…I wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore got to him, too. Harry has black hair and round glasses,”

Bellatrix pulls back just enough to look at her, “You know this changes things, right? Once I get you out of there, you can’t go back. I won’t lie to you. I don’t see a way for this rescue mission to go without bloodshed,”

Hermione nods, “I know. The way he looked at me, Bella…I don’t know that man. I may not know much about you, but you’ve been honest with me,” She thinks about how innocent Bellatrix acted in her dreams and amends, “for the _most_ part. Just…if you can avoid _killing_ anyone,”

Something flickers across Bellatrix’s face. She looks like she’s trying to decide if she should tell her something, and eventually she rolls her eyes and says, “Hermione, this is the organization that killed my parents. I said I wouldn’t lie and I won’t. I’ve been hunting them for years. I _am_ coming to get you, and I will kill whoever gets in my way. I’ll do my best to spare your friend, but that’s all I’m going to do for you,”

“Bellatrix—” Hermione starts to protest, but the world blurs around them.

 _No,_ she thinks as she looses sight of Bellatrix’s hardened expression. It’s no use. She wakes to find herself on the stone floor of a medieval looking dungeon, Albus Dumbledore looking down at her from the other side of the bars. Her head throbs painfully and she winces as she sits up, glaring at the headmaster.

“I do apologize for this, Miss Granger, but I cannot allow you to continue to sneak around with a vampire. It puts the entire school at risk,”

“So what’s your plan? I hardly know her, what makes you think she’ll come for me?” Hermione gets to her feet and folds her arms.

“I know she rescued you from those boys. A vampire that can do what was done to them must be a very old and powerful one, and I’m willing to bet she’ll come to rescue you again,”

Hermione works her jaw and looks around them, trying to determine their location. The interior resembles Hogwarts, just a less kept up, less modernized version of it. She’s heard rumors of a dungeon in the castle but she never imagined why it would be true.

“You saw what she did to them. What makes you think you stand a chance against her?” She does her best to keep her voice steady. He doesn’t deserve to know she’s afraid.

Dumbledore smiles cryptically and ignores her question, “I was like you once, you know. Fooled by one of their kind. I thought I loved him, thought I could trust him, and then he killed my sister. It was only then that I saw his true nature. Vampires are killers, Hermione, they don’t have souls. I wish I realized it before my sister died as a result of my naivety. You don’t have to make the same mistakes I did,”

Hermione may have bought his attempt at sincerity if he wasn’t delivering it from the other side of her cell. She keeps her mouth shut and holds his gaze, unwavering. She’s silent, but she wants to tell him how the organization he is apart of killed Bellatrix’s parents. She wants to say _perhaps being human or vampire alone doesn’t make one evil, but either one has equal potential to be._

“Very well then,” Dumbledore says, looking disappointed in her. He shakes his head and leaves her alone in her prison.

She imagines it must be nightfall by now, and Bellatrix will be arriving at any moment. She occupies herself by searching for weak points in the cell, but comes up empty. The place is old but it’s clear someone has taken care to ensure the cells would remain secure.

Dumbledore has been gone all of five minutes when she hears a distant scream. Hermione rushes to the edge of the cell, pressing her face to the bars and straining to listen. There’s a loud clatter close to the door, and something slams into it hard enough to make it rattle.

She hears multiple people yelling, another scream, another trembling of the door. Then, a scream that makes Hermione’s blood run cold.

_Bella._

Hermione shakes the bars pointlessly. She hears the scream again, and she feels a scream of her own rising in response.

“Bella!”

She shakes the bars again and stares desperately at the door, praying to anything that will listen. She saw how easy Bellatrix took down those boys, _surely_ she could get through this. She has to. If she doesn’t, the last thing Hermione said to her in person would be her saying she hates her.

Bella can’t die. She especially can’t die _for her._

The door is flung open and two men she’s never seen before drag Bellatrix’s limp body in by each of her arms. Her stomach rolls when she sees three arrows sticking out of her chest.

“Back against the wall!” One of them barks at her.

Hermione doesn’t know what choice she has but to listen. She steps back three paces until her back hits the opposite side of the small space, and they unlock the door and throw Bellatrix in, her head bouncing off the hard ground.

Hermione rushes forward and they slam the door of the cell shut, locking it. The other man gives her a dirty look before they leave them alone.

Hermione pulls Bellatrix’s head into her lap and stokes her hair away from her bloodied face. She’s unconscious, and Hermione is bombarded with frantic feelings of guilt and pain at seeing her this way. She didn’t realize quite how much she’s grown to care for this strange monster until this exact moment, and she curses herself for her own emotional stupidity.

“Bella, I’m so sorry. Bella, what happened?”

Tears fall from her cheek and drop onto Bella’s face. A sob wracks Hermione’s body as she give’s Bella’s body a gentle shake, “Bella, come back to me,”

Bellatrix’s eyes fly open and she gasps so loudly that Hermione almost screams in surprise. Bellatrix bares her fanged teeth and groans.

“H-Her…” Bellatrix struggles, but Hermione can tell she’s trying to say her name.

“Yes, I’m here, what is it?” Hermione asks frantically.

Bellatrix takes a ragged breath and says, “Arr-rows…take..them…out!”

Hermione’s nearly hyperventilating in her panic. She nods quickly, and wraps her hand around the first arrow. She gives Bellatrix an uncertain look, and even in her state of intense pain Bellatrix manages an encouraging nod.

Hermione yanks and Bellatrix yells, but it doesn’t budge.

“Harder!” Bellatrix growls through gritted teeth.

Hermione sobs, then tries again, as hard as she can this time. She pulls the arrow free, and the blood soaked, silver tip glints in the dim light. Bellatrix pants heavily and Hermione moves her attention to the next arrow. Before she can give it too much thought she yanks that one, too, and it dislodges easier than the first. The last one is the closest to her heart, and she takes extra care to make sure she pulls straight up, not wanting to risk nicking it.

Bellatrix screams at the last one, the sound so loud and horrible it makes Hermione’s ears ring. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hermione chants, abandoning the last arrow at her side. She can’t believe the barbarity of it all, she can’t believe they managed to catch _Bellatrix._

Bellatrix’s chest is heaving with every breath. She lifts her head enough to see that her wounds are leaking onto Hermione’s lap, and a look of palpable fear blooms on her face.

“I should be healing,” Bellatrix rasps, her panicked eyes searching Hermione’s face, “Why am I not healing?”

“I don’t know!” Hermione says, “Tell me what I can do!”

Hermione inspects the wounds. They look like they’re struggling to close, millimeter by millimeter, but it’s so subtle it’s almost undetectable. She takes off her jacket and presses it to the area, hoping the pressure at least slows the blood flow.

Bellatrix groans again at the pressure, sweat gathering and casting a sheen on her face. She didn’t think it was possible for Bellatrix to look any paler, but the loss of blood was proving her wrong.

“Maybe it’s because I gave you blood,” Bellatrix says, her eyes straying to the ceiling above them, her eyelids growing heavy.

“Hey, stay with me,” Hermione gently smacks her face, and something occurs to her, “What if you take some of my blood? Is that what you need?”

Bellatrix blinks, trying to keep her eyes on Hermione’s face, “Maybe,” she says hoarsely.

Hermione presses her wrist to Bellatrix’s lips without hesitating, “Here,” she says.

Bellatrix swallows, giving her an uncertain look. She looks so oddly vulnerable and unsure of herself, which only serves to worry Hermione further.

“it’s okay,” she says.

Bellatrix parts her lips, and Hermione feels the sharp pressure of her fangs against the tender skin of her wrist. She opens her mouth further and bites, the fangs puncturing her skin with such a sharp ease that it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought it would.

Hermione’s eyelids flutter as she feels her blood flowing into Bellatrix’s warm mouth. Her tongue laps soothingly at the skin, and it feels unexpectedly good _._

The small moment of intimacy is ripped away when Bellatrix twists her head and spits out her blood, her face twisting. She shoves Hermione’s wrist away and grasps at her throat.

“What, what is it?” Hermione asks desperately.

Bellatrix gives her a look of complete betrayal and she tries to answer but only a terrible, rasping noise escapes her. Hermione’s blood must’ve only harmed her more somehow. But why?

It doesn’t take long for it to hit her. “Shit,” she hisses, “Bella, I’m so sorry. Dumbledore gave me water before I was knocked out. It must’ve been laced with something,” Hermione covers her face, enraged and helpless and unable to watch Bellatrix gasping in pain because of her.

The door bangs open again and Draco Malfoy rushes to the bars of her cell. He takes one look at Bella before kneeling down and rolling a small vial towards them.

“I only have a moment before they realize I’m missing,” he whispers, “Give that to her, Granger,”

Hermione picks up the vial filled with what appears to be blood. “Why should I trust you?” She asks, popping the lid off to give it an experimental sniff.

“Because she’s my aunt, you twit, I _told_ you to stay away from her, now look what’s happened,” 

Hermione blinks at him in surprise, questions no one has time to answer jumping to mind. She just nods, and holds the vial to Bella’s quivering lips.

“She didn’t give me much of a choice,” Hermione grumbles, stoking Bella’s sweaty face tenderly.

“Whatever. Look, it won’t be enough to give her any strength, but it should keep her alive until help arrives,” Draco says, rising to his feel and turning to leave.

Bellatrix downs the blood in one gulp, and Hermione whispers urgently after him, “Help is coming?”

“Yes,” He hisses back, hand on the door, “Keep it together, Granger, don’t blow my cover,”

Hermione nods gratefully, and he slips back out the door. Bellatrix is breathing easier now, and Hermione pulls her sweatshirt back to see the wound closing at last. She sighs, intensely relieved.

She bends over the vampire, clutching her head to her chest, “I’m so sorry you’re in this mess because of me,” she says, her breath expelling in shudders.

Bellatrix chuckles weakly, “I think it’s the other way around, darling,”

Hermione laughs with her, pulling back to kiss her forehead, “I haven’t quite decided how I feel about you, so you can’t die yet, alright?”

Bellatrix nods weakly, “Things are _finally_ getting interesting. I’m not going any anywhere, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,”

“Good,” Hermione breathes.

Hours pass without disruption. Bellatrix’s hands are bloody so Hermione assumes the Order is recovering from whatever damage she managed to inflict before they brought her down. Bella leaves her head in her lap even after her wounds close, and Hermione runs her hands through her hair. If she shuts her eyes she can almost forget the terrible situation they’re in and just enjoy the feeling of Bellatrix’s thick locks sliding between her fingers. Bellatrix’s absorbing personality has a way of doing things like that, of making Hermione forget the rest of the world outside the two of them. Before it’s been because she’s scared or turned on, now it’s an entirely different emotion she doesn’t quite understand squirming inside of her.

The spell is broken when the wooden door opens and Dumbledore walks in with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who she knows from the sermons he gives at the church in Hogsmead, and Remus Lupin, her Fencing instructor. Dumbledore give them a look that makes Hermione feel strangely embarrassed, like her parents have just walked in her with her girlfriend.

Bellatrix shoots to her feet and growls like an animal, immediately on the defensive. Kingsley is the only one to look surprised, while Dumbledore and Remus look unimpressed. Hermione rises wearily to her feet, planting herself next to Bellatrix.

It’s then she notices Lupin holding silver chains, and Kingsley has a crossbow at his side that he’s now raising to take aim at Bellatrix.

Hermione steps in front of her.

“No,” she says, “this is barbaric! You are not taking her unless you want to hurt me, too,”

Dumbledore sighs and ignores her, unlocking the cell door.

“Don’t move,” Kingsley says, looking past her at Bellatrix, “Or this goes in your chest,”

“Only if you’re fast enough,” Bellatrix taunts.

“Careful,” Kingsley warns as the door creaks open, “Or I may just hit Miss Granger by mistake,”

Bellatrix hisses and shoves Hermione to the side. Hermione lands on her ass and with her out of the way, Bellatrix makes a run at Kingsley. She’s not at her full strength, and she only makes it a few steps before his arrow catches her in the shoulder.

Bellatrix stumbles and there’s an audible sizzling as the silver burns her from the inside. Dumbledore nods at Lupin, who walks around Bellatrix and wraps her arms in the silver chains. Bellatrix struggles against him, but every time she moves the chains dig deeper and burn her deeper. Hermione scrambles to her feet but Kingsley grabs her around the waist and she can’t make it any closer.

Dumbledore takes a syringe out of his jacket pocket and injects it into Bellatrix’s neck. The reaction is almost immediate, her eyes roll back into her head and she starts seizing.

“What are you doing to her?” Hermione sobs, fighting as hard as she can against Kingsley. Lupin doesn’t even spare her a glance. He drags Bellatrix out of the cell with Dumbledore following behind, and Kingsley shoves Hermione back to the ground. They lock her up again and leave her alone.

Hermione breathes through her panic, wiping furiously at her tears. She’s thankful at how much she’s underestimated in a room with a vampire present, considering no one noticed her lift Kingsley’s spare keys from his pocket.

She’s able to twist her arm just right to get the key in the lock of the cell, and then she’s creaking it open as quietly as she can. She presses her ear to the wooden door they dragged Bella through to see if anyone is on the other side. When she doesn’t hear anything, she pushes it open enough to poke her head through. It’s an empty hallway she recognizes, close to the courtyard. There’s a dark shape on the ground up ahead.

She tip toes down the hallway, sticking close to the wall. A cheer up ahead makes her freeze in her tracks. It sounds like a large gathering of people up ahead. The dark shape is a dead body with a neck that’s twisted all the way around.

Hermione removes the dead man’s jacket with a whispered apology, doing her best to keep her eyes off his face. She pulls his jacket on, covering her blue shirt and pulling the hood up to conceal her face.

She continues down the hallway and the closer she gets to the courtyard, the more she can hear Dumbledore’s voice booming as he makes some sort of speech. She peeks around the corner and sees a crowd of people standing with their backs to her, facing the large stone cross that’s adorned the center of the courtyard since it was built centuries ago.

No one recognizes her or pays her any mind as she weaves her way through the crowd with her head low. The sun isn’t out quite yet, so the dim light is on her side. She recognizes several teachers and students, though there are many other people she doesn’t know scattered throughout the crowd. No wonder Bellatrix didn’t make it far. There were at least 50 people gathered to watch Dumbledore speak.

She’s close to the front now, and she sees Bella’s slumped body chained to the cross with silver. This close, she can hear the sizzling as the silver burns her skin. Hermione wants to rush forward, but she knows she won’t do any good by blowing her cover.

“This monster has enthralled one of our own,” Dumbledore is saying, “This is a creature of the Devil’s creation. We shall cleanse her in the the holy light of the sun and leave her judgement up to the Lord,”

The crowd cheers again, and Hermione’s eyes burn with hatred as she stares at Dumbledore’s self-righteous expression. It’s clear now to her that Hogwarts is some kind of front for his sick cult of murderers, that he’s been recruiting children to his cause. Her parents raised her to value love above all else, and to never judge the morality of the many by the actions of the few. Clearly, Dumbledore doesn’t run his school with that same philosophy.

She jumps when someone grabs her arm, breathing a sigh of relief when she sees it’s Draco.

“I told you help is on the way,” He says under his breath.

“It’s almost sunrise,” She whispers back, “Will she burn in it? And _where_ is the help you speak of?”

“She will, but we’re not going to let that happen,”

She’s about to ask what he means by we, but Dumbledore’s voice cuts her off, “Now, if you’ll all please join hands and bow your heads in prayer as we await the sun,”

Hermione lowers her head and reaches her left hand out blindly, while Draco takes her right. When she’s confident everyone’s heads are bowed, she raises hers and finds Bellatrix’s eyes burning into hers.

She’s dripping with sweat, her curls sticking to her face, and even from a distance of several feet away she can see her trembling.There’s still fire and determination there, and Hermione gives her a small nod that says _be ready._

 _“Amen,”_ Dumbledore says. He looks up and he and Hermione look at each other at the same moment. She smiles at the look of complete surprise on his face, but before he can say anything, a scream tears through the courtyard.

Draco releases her hand and chaos erupts around her. Everyone is shoving each other, trying to get to an exit. She doesn’t bother to see what’s happening, she only runs at Bellatrix and readies Kingsley’s keys. Dumbledore’s eyes widen comically at the commotion and he stumbles back a step. Before she can reach Bellatrix, Lupin steps into her path, a stake in his right hand.

“Turn around, Hermione,” he says, raising his voice over the yelling of the onlookers behind them, “Just walk away. Don’t make me do this,”

“I can’t walk away from her, Lupin,” she says.

She rushes forward and shoves her professor as hard as she can. He stumbles but she’s not able to knock him down. He grabs her arm with his left hand and crashes the blunt end of the stake against her temple. She falls to the ground, ears ringing. She gets a glimpse of Bellatrix struggling against her chains, hears her scream as Hermione crumples, but then Lupin is blocking her view again.

His shadow looms over her, and looking up at the ever brightening sky Hermione begins to lose hope. All because she’s too weak to save her, this could be the end of Bellatrix Black. Lupin raises his foot, preparing to knock her out for good.

The world seems to slow as a hand crashes straight through Lupin’s chest, clutching his heart in front of him. Blood drips onto Hermione’s face as she looks on in horror. Lupins face is frozen in shock and then the hand retreats back through the hole it created and he crumples to the ground beside her. A woman stands in the spot he abandoned, blood up to her elbow, tilting her head curiously down at Hermione.

For half a second Hermione thinks it’s Bellatrix, but then the differences jump out at her. The woman has thicker eyebrows and lighter, tamed curls, though the resemblance in facial structure is uncanny. The woman tosses the heart to the side and smiles. 

“ _Andy_!” Bellatrix exclaims, sounding awfully delighted for someone chained to a cross in danger of being lit on fire at any moment, “Fuck me, that was marvelous,”

Bellatrix’s voice snaps Hermione out of her state and she scrambles to her feet. She brushes past the vampire that just saved her ass and runs behind Bellatrix, fumbling for the right key.

“That’s my sister,” Bellatrix tells her excitedly, while Hermione twists the lock, “Andromeda. I haven’t seen her in quite some time,”

Half of the chains fall to Bella’s feet, but the other half are connected by a separate lock. Hermione gets to work on the next one while Bellatrix continues conversationally, “We had a bit of a falling out because I tried to kill her husband, but it looks like she’s forgiven me,”

The second set of chains fall in a pool at her feet and Bellatrix staggers forward, throwing her weight onto her sister. Andromeda catches her with one arm and stumbles, rolling her eyes.

“Stop being dramatic, Bella,” Andromeda says, her voice an octave lower than her sisters, “We have to go, sun's almost up,”

Bellatrix moves away from Andromeda and grabs a younger student as he tries to run past her, fisting her hand in his hair and biting down. She only drinks from him for a minute before she flings him aside and he scurries off with a hand clutching his wound.

“I’m not leaving without killing that old bastard,” Bellatrix says, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. She looks stronger now that she’s fed, wounds already healing and the sickly pallor gone from her face.

Hermione searches the courtyard to see where Dumbledore got off to. She sees him on the opposite end, his arm slung around Harry’s shoulders as they hobble towards the exit. Before she can decide if she should tell Bellatrix, a slender, blonde woman steps out from the shadows and blocks the doorway leading to their escape.

Harry and Dumbledore freeze in their tracks. Hermione frowns curiously, wondering why the blonde is enough to stop them from escaping. Dumbledore staggers back tripping over his feet and falling to the ground, pulling Harry down with him. Harry tries to pull him back up but Dumbledore is scrambling backwards, trying to put distance between himself and the blonde. The woman smiles a pretty smile and advances on him.

Dumbledore begins yelling a prayer, holding his crucifix out in front of him like he's trying to exorcize a demon.

Bellatrix’s head whips around at the noise and she spots them instantly. She wraps her arm around Hermione’s waist and hugs her close, lifting her off her feet and darting forward. They move so fast Hermione’s pretty sure they left her stomach behind as Bellatrix zips through the crowd with practiced ease. They come to a stop directly in front of the blonde, Andromeda at their side.

“Ready?” The woman asks.

“Not without—Oh, fuck,” Bellatrix turns around to see Dumbledore has turned tail and is sprinting back in the other direction.

“Bella, there isn’t time,” Andromeda says, grabbing her arm, “Lets just get your girl to safety and come back for the others later,”

Bellatrix growls, but Hermione’s soft touch at her cheek draws her attention. Hermione nods her agreement with Andromeda and Bellatrix sighs.

“Get on,” Bellatrix says, crouching down.

“On your back?” She asks disbelievingly.

“ _Yes,_ hurry, before I change my mind and kill your headmaster instead,”

Hermione nods and with a jump, throws her arms around Bellatrix’s neck from behind, wrapping her legs around her waist. Bellatrix grasps her thighs and they’re off, the cold morning air whipping around them.

Hermione can’t help but feel completely disconnected from her old life as the four of them escape the castle. She feels like a stranger to herself. The Hermione from a month ago wouldn’t have dreamed of doing everything she’s done today, but at the same time it feels right. It feels like she’s becoming who she’s meant to be. Bellatrix and the two strange women plunge into the Forbidden Forest without an ounce of fear, and in this moment Hermione feels she has more in common with them than she does with the person she was yesterday.


End file.
